just like that, we’re spinning. It happens faster and swifter than the first two times, and I have zero control over the wheels. Nothing I do will stop tires from skating like four hockey pucks on ice, but I try to right us without causing more problems. Disorientation kicks in for a split-second before we stop. I assess our surroundings with almost no visibility, but two tires dip a bit. Which means we’re probably on the bank of the road. I turn to her. “Jane, are you okay?” I reach for her before I remember we’re not together, and she might not want me to touch her. I pull back.
