I watch the man...

These written pieces are emulating Sylvia Plaths' "Mirror."

by Lynn

I watch the man as he nervously backs out of the parking lot.
He looks back at the building, beads of sweat on his forehead.
He looks at the woman in the back seat.
She trembles, turning away from him. 
Red and blue lights appear in my vision.
He becomes frightened, and repeatedly checks behind him.
The lights become closer, driving more reckless.
​Finally, the light vanish from behind, to reappear from the front. 
Our adventure ended just as quick as it began, fast as a bullet.