Golly, thank God!

I striked the curb and cringed in nervous anticipation. Deep breath intake, right blind spot, turn out. Focused on tar, while the sun focused its glare, on me. Past the first haunting, on to the left. Out onto the road, found my biting point, inching, left turn. No U-turn? Everything above my rib cage sank into my womb. With a sigh of uneasy familiarity, I turned into the yellow box. Neutral, handbrake, out. Followed his shadow up the steps. With a calm experienced mind, I sat down. I have seen this room 3 times after all.
"Come."
The seat menacingly gleams, showing its razor teeth. I sat down.
"You striked the curb, and here..."
I stared past his words onto the white piece of paper in his hands.
...
Words and numbers and words. They formed a dim tunnel, suffocating.
I found the words. The tunnel collapsed. I was out.
He was done with talking. The paper was lying strewn in front of me. I picked it up. He shook his head. I walked out.

The sun was on her prowl. I wasn't on her list.
Because I passed.