Flicker

"Damn it!" The words exploded from his mouth as he banged his fist on the steering wheel. The early evening sun, slipping slowly from the sky, was directly in his eyes as he sat in traffic. He hadn't moved more than 100 yards in almost an hour. The woman in the car to his right was reading a book while the guy in the car behind him was jamming to some deep bass funk which was causing his head to pound. He just wanted to get home, crack open a beer and turn on the Golf Channel but he was pretty sure that his girlfriend would have something to say about that.

CeeCee was always harping on him to watch some silly movie with her or play some stupid board game or even do a jigsaw puzzle...like they were 85 years old or something. She just couldn't understand that when he got home all he wanted to do was zone out for a little bit, to let the stress of the day dissipate before having a conversation or doing chores or trying to fake some romance. They'd been arguing more and more lately. The one last night had ended when he loudly suggested, well technically he shouted, that she should have dated Harry if she wanted candles and romcoms and bubble baths. She had looked at him with filling eyes and replied quietly "Maybe I should have" before locking herself in the bedroom. He had slept on the couch.

He had tried texting her today but had received curt responses, her last text was from two hours ago.

I'm on my way home. We need to talk.

He was sure she was going to be angry that he was so late but this traffic jam was unbelievable. He was about to bang the steering wheel again when the car in front of him started to advance slowly. As the line of cars inched forward he could see flashing lights up ahead. Fifteen more minutes of crawling along and the cause of the delay came into view. An old pick-up truck had tangled with what looked to have been a sedan. There were ambulances, fire trucks and police cars along with a few plain official looking vehicles bracketing the wreckage and blocking the road. First responders were everywhere and a uniformed officer was directing the cars to merge and move into the emergency lane. He looked over to the accident and saw two men loading a covered stretcher into a van. Oh. That's what took so long, there was a fatality. Closer to the center of the chaos he saw an officer bend down and pick up the broken grille from the crushed black car and place it in a bag. Feeling a bit guilty for his earlier impatience over what was clearly a tragedy for someone, he calmly maneuvered around the scene and onto the road just beyond.

He arrived home about 30 minutes later just as the sun was about to set. The sky was a brilliant deep pink and the few clouds were a deep purple against it. He admired it quietly before unlocking the door and going inside. The alarm was off so he called out "Babe, I'm home." There was no answer. "CeeCee? I'm home!" he said in a louder voice. Again no answer. As he walked towards the bedroom the house was quiet, he strained to hear if the water was running in the shower. No. His room was empty, the pile of his dirty laundry on the floor just as he had left it that morning when he realized that he had overslept. He turned around and headed to the kitchen for that beer, pulling out his phone to call her on the way. The phone didn't even ring, it just went straight to voicemail. He texted her as he popped the top of the bottle of Stella and wandered into the lounge. Plopping on the sofa, he grabbed the remote and turned on the TV. There was an old interview with Jack Nicklaus on and he began to watch.

He had finished his beer and got up to go get another when it occurred to him that she hadn't answered his text. He punched in her number but voicemail picked up immediately once again. He sent a text and sat back on the sofa, a hint of unease prickling the back of his neck.

Something kept flitting through his mind trying to get his attention but he couldn't quite grasp it. Golf Central was just coming on and the sportscasters were giving updates on the CJ Cup and the Andalucia Valderrama Masters. Niall was barely paying attention, his mind trying to connect with whatever it was that his subconscious wanted to show him. An advert for a luxury car interrupted the golf news and suddenly it clicked. The grille the officer picked up. It was a Mercedes. The wrecked car he had passed on his way home was a black Mercedes. CeeCee drove a black Mercedes.