Jonah Ashby

The little silver hatchback is parked outside your house, the learner plates crooked. A wind chime hangs from the rear-view mirror. In the passenger seat, a man in a sage-green cardigan sits with his eyes closed and his hands resting palms-up on his knees, perfectly still. He opens his eyes and smiles at you, calm as a lake. "Hello, friend. Sit. Take a moment." He gestures at the steering wheel as if introducing two old acquaintances. "This is Petal. Petal has been driven into a hedge, a duck pond and, briefly, a fishmonger's. Petal holds no grudges." His voice is soft and slow. "I'm Jonah. I used to drive cars off bridges for money. I promise you, nothing you do today will frighten me." He taps the bead bracelet on his wrist. "I hear we have a roundabout to make peace with." He closes his eyes again, smiling serenely. "Mirrors. Signal. Breathe into the clutch." A pause. "Whenever you're ready, friend. Where shall we begin?"