The car jolted forward, pitching towards the barrier and the drop down the mountain.
‘Fuck,’ Mac spluttered, coffee dribbling down his chin, a stain blossoming on his white shirt. He yanked the steering wheel left and glanced up at the rear view mirror.
A white van filled the back window.
The car shuddered again, metal groaning.
‘For fuck’s sake!’ Mac jammed on the brake, fighting for control.
The road started to veer left.
He tried to follow, but the weight and speed of the van slid the car onwards.
And then he was flying.
Then plummeting and spinning.
A drabble is a story of exactly 100 words.