He could feel it. That pulsating, building pressure behind his right eye. The muscles in his forearms tightened, relaxed and tightened again as he gripped the steering wheel. Jason wasn't really pressed for time. He was only fifteen minutes from work and he had more than forty minutes to arrive on time. Nor did he really have a problem with the traffic; it was no better, no worse than any other day. He knew that it all stemmed from the argument with his new bride the night before. He glared at the world around him from beneath his dark tresses and went over it all again in his head.
She was wrong. She had to be. If there was nothing else he knew about that fight, it was that he was right. It seemed simple to an outsider, sure, but Jason had to be right. And then it struck him like a lightning bolt, being right was all he was battling for. Going over the altercation for the umpteenth time in his head, he felt the shame wash over him.
"I'm such a jerk," he mumbled more to himself than any one or anything within earshot. He balled his right hand into a fist and punched the dashboard hard enough to break the skin on the knuckle to his middle finger. Ignoring the sting he looked up to see the light turning yellow and space in front of his '09 Honda. He pressed the gas pedal and thought he'd call Ashlie when he got to the office.
A movement to the left caught his eye. He casually turned his head as he was sliding through the intersection only to stare directly at the front grill of a quickly advancing CitiWorks dump truck.
"ASH-," barely escaped his lips as the deafening smack overtook all else.
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