Speeding across the San Mateo bridge, I glance to the right and the Bay opens up like a smooth slate of silver. The clouds are hovering low creating a narrow glowing landscape with cities silhouetted along the shoreline. The streetlights look like thin allen wrenches all lined up, like two sides of a rounded edged rectangle, and the towers for the power lines are majestic wire robots accompanying us across the bay. There's a person behind me, trying to get around, speeding, swerving - I notice that he's wearing an unusual hat which makes his urgency seem less urgent somehow. My teeth hurt a little, but antibiotics have changed to the pain into more of an itch.
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