The Seductress

"Only two things in life are certain. Death and taxes."
The words echoed through his head. Sitting stuck in traffic, he kinda hoped it would be soon. This was ridiculous. But there was nothing to be done. He was a few miles from the next turn-off and that would probably be clogged with traffic as well.
As traffic inched along, he thought more about death. It wasn't exactly that he was obsessed with it, just that he thought about it a lot. A LOT. He justified this dark passion of his by saying that he didn't actually think about killing himself; more it was imagining how he would die.
Like sitting in traffic. He wondered how he would die right now if it was his time. Would it be a car plowing into the back of him, smashing him to bits? Maybe the hoopty in front of him had a gas leak and would all of the sudden exploded, the debris slicing ribbons through car and his body. Perhaps it would be something commonplace like a heart-attack from yelling at the moron in front of him that just cut him off. Or maybe it would be some crazy wack-job that comes alongside of him and sprays his car full of bullets. Just another random murder.
He thought about the consequences. Would he be missed? Would his family follow his wishes? Had he done enough to take care of the people he loved? (Even those who loved him back) Foot by foot he made his way through traffic, pondering all the different ways he could die. A car in front of him loses control, the driver dropped his taco. Would he be able to avoid the collision? Or would he perish in a literal blaze of glory?

(I have to stop here, I am so tired I am nodding off instead of typing.but then no-one really reads this, so I guess I am just writing this for my own pleasure)