THE FOG EMBRACED THE COAST like a desperate lover, clinging, refusing to let go. This part of the highway was precarious even in good conditions, but now, in the predawn stillness, it was almost impossible.
"This fog is as thick as pea soup," he muttered, chuckling at the image the adage conjured up. He leaned forward, gripping the steering wheel in an attempt to see what lay ahead as he tried to navigate the tortuous coastal route. He glanced toward the horizon, praying that once the sun began to rise it would burn off the fog, making the rest of his journey less harrowing. He estimated he still had another hour or so to go before he reached his destination.
As he inched his way along the highway, his mind wandered back to the phone call that had motivated him to attempt this drive in the first place. Urgent, they said it was urgent.
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