It was tempting to go home and forget about the mess on the car until the morning. He was feeling nauseous and a little giddy with every breath he took, which was understandable after the fright he had suffered. At the same time, he was impatient to get the muck cleaned off his windscreen. In addition, if he went to the car wash he could stop off at the police station on his way home to register his dissatisfaction with the treatment his complaint had received. He would do himself a favour if he lodged a complaint without delay. Fiddling with the windscreen wash, he changed his mind again, mainly because he had just felt another wave of nausea and his stomach hurt. Thinking he might actually be sick, he opened his window, hoping that a blast of fresh air would revive him. Looking out, he blinked furiously. His windscreen still had a film of sludge on it, making the street look hazy, but outside a fog had descended quickly and what he could see through the open window was equally blurry.

He kept his wipers going at full speed, but the fog in front of the car did not clear. By now he was more concerned about his drowsiness, which he was struggling to overcome. Delayed shock at the attack on his car had finally caught up with him. At the time he had been too incensed to fully register the danger he had survived. As he reached across to remove his seat belt, he felt his heart racing and he almost blacked out. Wiping away a trickle of saliva that was dripping down his chin, he noticed he was breathing very rapidly now, and realised he was experiencing a panic attack. Desperately fighting to control his hands, he fumbled to open the door. He needed to get out of the car and breathe in some fresh air before he choked to death, but somehow his limbs no longer moved freely.

By the time he managed to clamber out of the car he was breathing in shallow painful gasps. Reeling, he almost lost his balance when he pushed the car door closed. He nearly lost his footing again as he staggered up the drive. It was dark, and he swore as he made his way towards the house. Any movement on the path was supposed to trigger the security lights, but they did not come on. That was one more problem he would have to sort out. Unless he took matters into his own hands, nothing ever got done. His wife was a useless lazy cow who left everything to him. She had never been any different. If she even noticed the lights weren’t working it would never occur to her to have them fixed. She would just tell him about it, if she remembered, and wait for him to sort it out, as she did with everything else.