Breaking Down

by Kathy Passero

The ruptured tire let out a loud staccato thwap thwap thwap, and Drew pulled the Grand Cherokee onto the shoulder of the highway.

"Shit," he said.

"Don't you know how to change it?" Kevin asked.

"Do you?"

The two men flashed sheepish grins at each other.

Watching them, Eve felt a mixture of panic and fury rising in her esophagus, an internal Tasmanian devil spinning its way upward and scrambling to burst out in a stream of epithets and condemnations. Incompetent men. How dare they snicker and smirk?

"Seriously?" Kevin demanded, eyeing his friend.

"Not a clue."

Eve watched the back of Kevin's head silently from her seat behind him.

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