As he turned the corner in his red Volvo, Paul checked the map again.

He muttered the directions aloud to himself. "Left on 21st …check…now go three blocks, turn on State Street, and then it should only be…two miles away. Really? That close?"

The clock above the car radio read 7:45 pm. The meeting wouldn't start until 8.

"Dammit!" he swore, "I knew this would happen!" His first AA meeting, and he would be early. Embarrassingly, irrevocably early.

Since no one in America but Paul was ever early – or even on time – anymore, he knew exactly what his fate would be. Every social gathering he went to, whether it was group therapy, office meetings, or house parties, it was always the exact same thing. He would show up five, ten, or fifteen minutes early, and – surprise surprise – no one would be there. No one except for the therapist, boss, host, or whoever was running the damn thing. Sometimes even they hadn't shown up yet. Which meant that Paul was either forced to sit there, by himself, like a damned idiot, or worse, make awkward small talk with whoever was there like a damned idiot. Did anyone really give a fuck about the weather, anyway? No. And of course this meeting would be the worst, because drunk people barely notice where they're going, much less what temperature it is or who just won the game. What was he supposed to chitchat about with the random AA members who trickled in – beer preference? How many DUIs they'd racked up so far this year?

God, he needed a drink.

He checked the road again. Sure enough, there was State Street up ahead on the right. Taunting him. The clock flashed 7:47 in mocking red LED numbers.

Paul began to consider his options. He could find the place and then circle around the block a few times until it was almost eight o-clock. But what if someone noticed the crazy guy in the red Volvo driving around and around the same place like a hopelessly lost moron? Maybe they'd assume he was driving drunk - the one time he sure as hell wasn't. Besides, with his luck by the time he finally decided to park there wouldn't be any spots left. Could he walk in, find the bathroom, and stall for time there? He didn't need to use the bathroom. And he couldn't just stand around looking in the mirror. What was he gonna do, put on his makeup? Fix his hair? Ask the guy at the urinal if his pants made his butt look too big? No, men didn't just stand around in the damn bathroom. Not happening.

There was no way he was sitting alone in that room making small talk with the AA coordinator. There had to be some way out of this.

He made the turn on to State Street. It was still 7:47.

Why had he left the house so damn early? The trip should've taken half an hour, assuming the driver obeyed all the posted speed limits, so he'd left at 7:30. He'd figured that although he rarely obeyed the speed limit, since he'd never been there he should allow a couple minutes in case he misread the directions or something. No problem. But of course, he hadn't gotten lost, and as usual had broken the speed limits by 5-10 miles the whole way. And now he was going to be the only person in the damn meeting.

7:48. Paul's hands were beginning to sweat. He'd already slowed down to 35 miles an hour, hoping that not speeding would kill some time. The driver behind him, however, did not appreciate this.

"God dammit, get off my tail, you jerk!" Paul grumbled. He hated being tailgated. Someday he'd just hit the brakes hard and watch one of those jerks slam into his bumper. Serves them fucking right.

7:49. He could see 5th Avenue up ahead, and past that intersection, the building where the meeting was supposed to be. Shit! It was right there. His mind was spinning. What to do…slow down even more and really piss off the guy behind him? Circle around? Skip the damn meeting and go the bar instead? Shit, shit…stupid clock! Stupid car, stupid map, stupid DUI, stupid judge making him go to these stupid meetings and do stupid community service…why did this crap always happen to him? Because there was no fucking God, that's why.

Lost in his frustrated mental ranting, Paul failed to notice the stop sign at the intersection of 5th and State. As he drove past, out of the corner of his eye he saw a flash of green metal moving towards him.

There was a sudden, forceful shove from his right as his body hit the driver's side door, a loud crunching noise, and a squeal of tires. And then everything went black.

Paul regained consciousness several seconds later. He looked around and immediately noticed the hood of a green sedan smashed into the passenger side of his Volvo. Oh, great. Just great. The driver of the green car was walking over to him, looking stunned and rather irate.

Paul rolled down his window. "Hey, man, did you miss the stop sign there?" asked the other driver.

"Yeah, I guess I did. Sorry, pal."

"You should really be more fucking careful, you know? This could've been a lot worse. You're not hurt or anything, right?"

"Nah, I don't think so. I blacked out for a few seconds, but I don't think there's any permanent damage." Paul felt around on his head a bit to make sure. Nothing bleeding. There might be some bruises on his left arm soon, but he couldn't feel anything that seemed worthy of medical attention.

"Well, good, I think I'm fine too. I called the cops already, they're on their way. I just need your info and your insurance, so I can get the repairs on my car paid for. You do know this was your fault, right? We're not gonna have to get into some damn legal battle?"

"No, no, it was my fault," Paul assured him with a sigh, "I ran the stop sign."

"Good." The other driver sighed as well, sticking his hands into the pockets of his jacket. "So where were you going, anyway."

"Uh, to a meeting," Paul muttered.

"Well, I sure hope it wasn't too important, 'cause it looks like you're gonna be pretty late now."

Paul glanced over at the clock. 7:56. By the time the police got there, took all their info, and wrote a report…it could take half an hour, maybe longer. If he could find some sort of injury, something that required a once-over by a doctor, there was a chance he would miss the whole stupid AA meeting altogether!

Much to the other driver's surprise, Paul started laughing.

It seemed there was a God, after all.