Flash Fiction Friday: The Greatest Commute

Most people would consider daily ocean views more than enough compensation for a boring commute. 

Most people are tourists. 

I tap my fingers on the steering wheel; stuck on the highway, again. Dust and sand bounce across my dashboard at my subwoofer's command. The line of cars edges forward, just far enough to ease the decay of my sanity.

I look out over the ocean and crane my neck to look closer when the water bows upward, trying to escape a boil of some immense object pushing up to the surface. Awe strikes as an enormous machine walks out of the surf. It's all legs, arms, and weaponry straight from Kaiju movies.

It lumbers onto shore, turns back and fires a wicked laser pulse back into the water just as another, smaller, yet still huge, machine breaks the surface. The two enormous mechs circle each other, locked in battle, blithely kicking minivans off the highway as they go. 

Traffic moves forward, and I leave my daydreams behind with my exhaust.