Slope

Words keep pooling in my mind but they refuse a move to paper. I suspect my smile stopped their flow: torrential with misery, stagnant now. Coffee ought to help, the four cars ahead agree. "Hang on, is that?" She's already outside. I'm not sure the concrete has had a photoshoot before. I can't ease off the brake before she's back inside. "Whoever made this clearly knows what they're doing, they built a small grade to move water despite the flat terrain!" A few drops, then more seeping from my head, dipping down my arm spilling onto— "Your coffee, sir!"