It won’t really stop with the whining noises he had been hearing for the longer part of four seconds or so. The length of the pitch isn’t variable, but the dynamic range decreases as it holds his thrall.
Fuck it is ever annoying. But it was infrequent. This trellis of his attention had popped up at uncomfortable moments. Socially anxious moments, mostly. He would stare off in front of the dinner plate, and his story would dangle dropped into a silence.
The sound of the steering wheel crunching under the weight of the axle was killing him. I mean, he was dying. His blood dripped on the ground. The heat and dirt made it slippery and sticky at once. He bent his head over and saw his left foot. It was not really attached to anything anymore.
But then nothing. No more movement. Suddenly the weight of the rear truck axle was shifting; lifting up from the wreckage of his Honda. His body was set free. His heart did not beat. Something was wrong. It was like he let go of everything he had grappled with for those last seconds. His heart shuddered, his eyes stayed wide awake open and his tongue fell out of what was his mouth.
The dust had settled. The wind snapped back, and Roy felt under the wreckage. He doubted any survivors. Couldn’t be much of anything left in this wreckage. His hand felt something warm along the lining of the passenger seat.
He sighed and rolled his eyes slowly, “Damn it.” His glove was stained and moist with something. He pushed his head underneath axle to see what it was.
“What is it?” called back from behind the truck.
The weight of the axle began to pull the left side of Herodotu’s tow-truck off of the ground. The axle presses Roy’s head into the lap of the recently deceased occupant. The warm substance on the fingers of his glove and now on his left cheek were piss.
Herodotu’s truck extended it’s counterweight to compensate for it’s perceived unbalance. Pulling his head back quickly Roy spat and wiped his face.
“Damn it.”