DEAD END by Jake Johnson

The signs jut up from the hot sand.

They beckon me closer with their disarming faces. When I get close I see the blood dripping from their teeth.

I run. They say to me,

STOP

YIELD

and I think about it and then I don’t.

I’m not in the desert anymore. I’m in a metal room with a doorway and a sign that says,

NO U-TURN

“But-?” I begin.

NO YIELD ON RIGHT

“You think I’m right?” I ask, honored.

NO PARKING

it rushes me. I nod and run through the doorway.