I improvised this story today on Twitter, one tweet at a time. It comes from a place of need. All tweets appear here in chronological order from top to bottom and have been proofread for respectful capitalization only.
Lord, I need a lift. I need to get from here to there. You’re the expert, but if I may suggest a route, hang a left and aim for the glowing.
“Hang on to your shit,” spake the Lord, and floored it.
In reverse. Pinned by velocity to the back of the passenger seat like a sixth-grade science project, I could just make out my past flying by.