Coyote

 The streetlights hung low. Narcissus on the edge of the pond. I drove. A coyote stood in the middle of the two lanes. I drove past. It didn’t move.

I slowed and turned back. I parked on the side and walked in darkness. It didn’t move.

“What are you doing out here?” I asked.

“I am caught between two paths,” the coyote said.

“That’s every moment.”

“Not for a coyote.”

“What do you plan to do?” I asked.

“I’m not sure.”

Headlights shot out over the road. I walked back. The car barely missed the coyote. It didn’t move.