An online novel by Gillette Edmunds

The man looked at Michael’s American Express card, set it down on the counter and handed Michael a map showing the large cities and tourist spots, the autostradas and the main roads.

“Just some idea of where you are going,” the man said. “I’ve got to fill out the forms.”

“I’m going north,” Michael said. “We went south yesterday.”

“Trying to see everything in Italy,” the man said filling out the rental papers.

“Actually, I’m trying not to see anything,” Michael said.

“Fine,” the man mumbled into the papers.

The rental agent cashed a traveler’s check taking a large commission and handed Michael the keys.

Parked across the street from the agency, the little brown, square Fiat gleamed in the sun. A blast of heat and the smell of dust and melting vinyl jolted Michael when he opened the door. He wanted a drink and he was not going to take one. He tossed his bag into the cramped back seat and waited next to the door as the car aired. No, I’ve got to go, he thought and slid behind the hot, black plastic steering wheel. He hurried through Rome, following signs to the autostrada, dodging cars, bicyclists and pedestrians at every corner, the barking of horns in his ears, the glare on the window, sweat beads again forming on his forehead.

The autostrada was massed with cars roaring north, always men silently driving while women and children and grandmother passengers talked and ate. The rental car had no radio and looking at the Italians was boring. They never looked back from their glassed-in compartments.