The Third Passenger

C has driven the night shift for three years. He knows every empty road. One night, on a dark highway, his headlights catch a woman standing in the middle of the road. She wears a wet white robe. Her face is wrong-blurred, like a photograph smeared before it dried. He slams the brakes. When he opens the door, she is gone. The next morning, he cannot remember his mother's phone number. His coworkers say the road has a history.
Drivers see things. Drivers forget things. C tells himself it means nothing. Then, seven nights later, on a different highway-he sees her again. This time, she is closer.