Nonfiction:

He spots the sign floating above the freeway; Oso Parkway, one and one fourth miles away. He uses it as a marker to count out time until he's back to the place he currently calls home. Forty minutes now until he's off of these flooded lunatic raceways and under some covers. He glances at his watch, a worried movement, four forty two.

The tires slip and rise above the payment, riding on a thin layer of water for one moment too long. He lets off the gas and straightens out the wheel, but the rear of the car is already trying to push the front out of its way. As he slides into the lane to the right, he looks out of the passenger side window, a few sets of lights are coming toward him, trailing fluorescent red spray.

The downpour quickly soaks the hair on his head, water dripping down his forehead into his eyes and on his glasses. He's staring up at a blurry green shape squarish but he's not sure why. He pulls his glasses over his ears as a car whips by him in the lane to his left. The sign becomes clear; Oso Parkway, one and one fourth miles away. He panics and looks at his watch, four fourty three. He quickly turns on his heel and puts his arms up in front of his face to shield his eyes from the lights.

He catches the sign out of the corner of his eye; Oso Parkway, one and one forth miles away. He lets off on the accelerator and moves a lane over to the right. Forty minutes now until he's off these flooded lunatic raceways and under some covers, secure in the fact that he'll wake up tomorrow whether he'd like to or not.