One Headlight

Nothing hurts quite like a broken heart. But wait, it’s not what you think.

See, it all started with a burnt out headlight. I was driving down the road one day and suddenly I see these flashing American red, white and blue lights in my rear view mirror. So I stop by the side of this dusty old road and a cop gets out, slamming his door with a bang. He starts strutting over like some sort of high-class goose with an emblazoned star on his uniform and crisp black pants. His boots thunk against the ground as he makes his way over.

Now, nothing was real unusual about all this, but I can’t say that I liked the way his eyes slid over my Camaro, letting out a low whistle as he stared at my rims. His gun glistened in the dying light, hanging down from his belt. He hadn’t bothered to adjust it, so I figured he didn’t use it often.

“Nice car you got here,” He said as he approached. I leaned against the window frame to look up at his face. “This sure is a pretty thing. What year?”

“1968. Is there a reason you pulled me over, officer?” I asked plaintively. I was anxious to get back to my sister, Margaret.

“You got a knocked out headlight.”

“Really? I swear they were fine this morning.” I replied.

“Come see for yourself.” He answered, backing up to give me room to open the door. I swung myself out, mildly puzzled about the whole situation. How could he have even known it was out if my headlights weren’t on?

Nevertheless, I started to round the car to see for myself, but before I got very far, the damned pig slammed me over the head with the butt of his gun. I fell to the floor in a daze, blinking up at him with dirt in my mouth and a sour feeling in my gut. The cop grinned wickedly and tipped his hat at me.

“Nice day for a drive, Cinderella,” He said cheerfully. “In a bright red 1968 Camaro.” He practically skipped to the driver’s side and hopped in. He spat in my face as he drove by, nearly running over my feet with those beautiful tires on polished rims. I lay on the ground, willing my head to stop spinning, my heart breaking into a million pieces as I watched my one true love being driven away by some asshole cop. I never did get that car back. That car that meant everything to me, and more. Margaret died that day while I was gasping in the road. Nothing hurts quite like a broken heart.