Gridlock

What’s worse than being stuck in traffic?

“Evacuations from the Bay Area are still underway…” <click> “Traffic on the 101 has snarled into a standstill over the Golden Gate Bridge…” <click> “Experts warn the tsunami is predicted to measure over…” <click>

“We know,” Johnny sighed, looking at the wall of traffic that hadn’t moved in over an hour.

“I spy with my little eye some dude with 99 problems.”

“Who?” Jenna leaned over, following his gaze. “That guy? Why?”

“Stuck in this shitshow with a Tesla. That’s probably why we’re not moving. Some rich prick up ahead in a stalled-out paperweight.”

“Oh god no. Not now, please,” she groaned, still fidgeting with the radio.

“What?” Johnny feigned offense.

“I already have too many things on my mind. I don’t need you picking a fight about EVs while you’ve got the AC blasting with barely a quarter tank.”

“Hey! You’re the one who said you were hot.”

“Warm, Johnny. I said I was fucking warm. Now the AC is on so high I’m probably going to catch a cold.”

Johnny burst out laughing. “That’s not how that works, and you know it.”

Jenna’s lip curled, and she punched him square in the shoulder.

“Owww. What the fuck, Jenna?”

“I told you, I hate when you laugh at me like I’m stupid.”

“Oh, come on, babe. You know I don’t think you’re stupid.” He paused. “You just say stupid things.”

She wound up and throttled him again.

He rubbed his shoulder, a glint flashing in his eye.

“What now!” she shouted.

“I’m just glad you hit like a girl.”

She couldn’t help herself and let a laugh sneak through. “You’re such a dick.”

He grinned.

“I’m worried, Johnny.”

He clutched her hand. “I know, babe.” He squeezed it. “But we’re going to be fine.”

She leaned into him, lacing their fingers together. “How do you know?”

“With a quake that size? They said they only expect a hundred-foot wave, at most. We’re safe up here.”

“What’s that?” Jenna sat up.

Johnny peered at the horizon. “What?”

“That rumble. Did you feel it?”

“No, I didn’t f—”

The car lurched and Johnny’s head slammed into the door, the window bursting beside him.

“Johnny!” she screamed, reaching for him.

The car lurched and rolled and lurched again. Then they were on the roof. Everything was upside down.

“Jennaaaa,” he groaned, crawling toward her.

“I can’t see! I can’t see!” she screamed.

Through the cracked windshield Johnny saw the bridge deck heave like a stormy sea as it tore itself apart. Slabs breaking off and careening into the bay.

He pulled her into his arms and held her tight, tears streaming down his face.

“Johnny, what’s happening? I can’t see.”

“It’s okay, baby. We’re going to be fine. I’ve got you.”

With a final violent heave, the bridge beneath them shook loose and let go. The sudden silence, warm and welcoming.

“I love you.”

This piece was written for the June 2026 Furious Fiction Contest.

“Here are your JUNE story challenge prompts:

Your story must take place on a BRIDGE.

A character in your story has too much/many of something.

Your story must include the words CATCH, MEASURE, WARM (longer variations allowed if original spelling retained).”

About Liminal Space Creative

Independent creator attempting to spill the messy worlds in my head onto the page. At present, I am attending online design school as part of a very unexpected and unplanned career change. This space is where I will share random pieces of the journey: inspiration, experiments, school projects, and lessons I learn along the way.

Cover photo by Chris Brignola on Unsplash