"It's a little late for that, don't you think?" I squeezed
through the crack and stood leaning my back against the car. The air
touched my face with welcome coolness. "What the hell do you mean
careening around and bashing people? Don't you know drunks on wheels
are worse than thieves? And I hate thieves!" The front wheel looked bent
to me, which meant expense and delay. I don't know which exasperated
me the most.
I realized she was merely standing there, with her eyes on me, and there
was a light of humor in them, of amusement at the situation rather than
at me, or solely at me though she knew well that I could have struck her
into the fence and sent her bouncing. I was tensed to do it. But
something in her eyes halted me, or else my head was clearing and my
heart slowing for I cast about for that despicable truck but it was
nowhere to be seen. Nor was any other vehicle. I set my eyes on her
again. "It wasn't you."