Cruising along at 66mph, rain-streaked letters on the rear window of a passing van, their intent obscured by the recent storm. An overactive imagination suggests that maybe they were in reverse--scrawled from the other side of the pane. Morbid thoughts of a desperate plea for help replace the frivolous image of "wash me" spelled in dust. Van speeds away; questions remain.
Is it prudence or cowardice that fails to give chase?
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