His hair is damp and tousled from the rain.He greets me warmly and pulls a stool out for me. I pretend not to notice as he appraises my body and rests...his eyes on my chest, where the silver necklace grazes my breasts. He orders a bottle of red and signals to the barman that we’re moving to a table in front of the fireplace.I watch the flames lick the glass of the wood-burning stove a few minutes later as the waiter pours out two glasses of Malbec. I think of the last time we were together, over. The car seemed like an extension of his body. It seemed like all he had to do was think of what he wanted to do and the car responded. He and the car became one being and that being owned the road. Roger had a fleeting thought that it was impossible for a human to make such a machine; this car had to be made by the Gods.Roger pulled into the parking lot of the restaurant and saw a man waving him into a parking spot right at the front door. He got out and started to hand the keys to the man but. More

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