Smacznego

His lorry comes to rest on the southbound carriageway, its cab pointing north, its trailer at right angles to the cab, blocking the motorway completely.

Stanislaus is chewing on a mouthful of bread and sausage. In his left hand mirrors he sees the lights of a police car forcing its way up the hard shoulder, inside the growing queue of cars and lorries backing up behind him. He hears the siren whooping, rising as it comes nearer.

Stanislaus looks back from his cab, taking in the scene on the northbound carriageway.

Black tracks record the trajectory of the lorry from the central lane across the northbound carriageway and over the central reservation. The crash barrier is peeled back across the southbound carriageway like a ribbon of silver.

Beyond the junction with the slip road a car is stopped on the hard shoulder. Its rear quarter is dented. The raw scars in the paintwork show this is recent.

There is a car broadside on in the centre lane, its bonnet crushed and pushed sideways from the left.

In the outside lane a car has rear-ended the car travelling ahead of it.

Northbound vehicles are filtering to the inside lane to get round these obstructions and there is a lengthening queue along the carriageway.

The police car stops in front of his cab. Stanislaus opens his door. He steps down to the tarmac. He has his sandwich in his hand still. He takes a bite as he waves a friendly salute to the policeman walking towards him.

'Smacznego!' Stanislaus calls.

(259 words)