George was certain that the yellow car – bright as a canary’s feathers, smooth and sleek like something from a gangster film – was hunting him, stalking him through the skyscrapers like a tiger through the trees. A glance out his window at lunchtime showed it was there, waiting, but he decided to risk going out anyway.
A hail of bullets almost got him just as the door of the yellow car was flung open and a man stuck out his hand, shouting “Come with me if you want to live!”
This is for Three Line Tales. Thanks to Sonya for running the challenge and Wolf Schram for providing the prompt photo!