The Lord's Day

by Luc Lang

...we were stuck in a traffic jam, it was raining, dismal, the red and white lights wept and streamed with water, I was continually wiping the steamed-up car windows, we were all three trapped, to put it mildly, in a tin box...why on earth had she insisted on coming with him?...excuse me, came her voice from the back, I can't hold off any more, I have to light up!...she rolled the window down, produced a pack of Gitanes from her pocket, and he, sitting up front in the passenger seat, wriggled and complained...fifty-six years I've had to put up with her cigarette smoke! tobacco makes you sterile, didn't you know that?

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