Black Ice dangled dangerously in the center of the dash board. A smell so masculine it was hard to forget that he was sitting right next to me. With every turn that car made that air freshener rocked the other way as if warning me how his not signaling a turn would leave me with nothing but a burn. Every laugh I had in that car were later tears and scars. Every hit in that back seat is now nothing but a bad trip in the heat. Like the black ice I slipped on that feeling in my stomach was crushed when I landed and all that was left was a bruise on my hip and that smell.