I shoved the check into the small compartment below the radio.

I reached out and touched the steering wheel.

The plastic was freezing.

My mother had been sitting in a passenger seat just like this one when he crashed.

I leaned forward in the quiet car, closed my eyes, and let out a long, slow breath.

I ended up resting my forehead against the cold steering wheel of my Buick.

A heavy, rapid knock woke me at seven in the morning.

I pulled on my thick sweater and opened my apartment door.