Mark clutched the steering wheel, knuckles white. Every tick of the dashboard clock was a hammer blow, reminding him he was already twenty minutes late for the most important client meeting of his career. Sweat beaded on his forehead, and a frantic desperation gnawed at him. He “had” to make up time. The city traffic,…

The city lights blurred, streaking past Leo’s window in an angry, neon smear. His phone, propped precariously on the dashboard, buzzed again with a text from his boss, the words “where are you?” sharp and accusatory even without an exclamation mark. Leo’s jaw was tight, his knuckles white on the steering wheel. He was already…

The Tuesday morning traffic on the M6 was its usual relentless crawl, a sluggish artery of steel and frustration. For Mark, a sales representative with a penchant for pushing deadlines, it was a special kind of torment. He was late. Not just a few minutes, but a career-jeopardizing, deal-breaking kind of late. The presentation he…

The biting November wind whipped around the corners of the city streets, carrying with it a slurry of rain and exhaust fumes. From his perch in the driver’s seat of the battered delivery van, Mark saw the world through a smear of grime and drizzle. He was 38 minutes behind schedule, a fact his handheld…