"Goddammit!"

Meta yelled and swatted at the bird, though it was outside the car. Its beak had struck her windshield and cracked it down the middle like a fresh egg. She hoped the stupid thing was lying on the road behind her, frying beneath the summer sun like the yolk in a skillet.

She squinted, though the crack did not impede her vision, and she continued to mutter curses to and from the godforsaken god she did not believe in.

Now she had to drive ten miles per hour slower because of the crack that did not impede her vision, and she would be late to see Dr. Shurilar, whom she did not want to see. And she was always irritated to be late to an appointment she did not want.

She would have to file this with insurance. Her rates had already gone up after last year's accident, and they wouldn't believe a bird had struck her windshield. They would think she did it herself so that her rates would go up, and she could complain and threaten to switch insurance companies so they would cut her a deal.

She wasn't any good at arguing, though—everyone knew that. Her friends could cheat her out of anything she owned if they took up a stance against her. Just look at how much she had paid for them.