Rotten of man's perfume

Drenver remembered what he told me yesterday. He picked me up from the company. I didn't expect him to remember because he left earlier and didn't remember that he would drop me off at work. He was driving quietly; no one intended to talk to the two of us.

He frowned and gripped the steering wheel tightly. He only looked straight at the road.

"You're fucking slow, moron!" He yelled at the car in front of us. I was taken aback by his sudden outburst.

I smelled alcohol inside the car. Did he drink? Is he drunk? I started to feel uneasy and considered asking him if he was okay to drive. But I hesitated, not wanting to upset him further.

"Hey? Are you alright?" I asked without looking directly at him.

I'm afraid to meet his eyes because he wants to hurt someone. I could sense his anger radiating off him, and I didn't want to provoke him further. The tension in the car was palpable, and I silently prayed for a safe journey.

"Do I look freakin' alright?" he sarcastically said.

I soft