The first thing you do when you stop the world, I once read, is hiccup. All I could do was sit there and contemplate a crow caught in the web of sky above the liquor store. It was ten minutes past two on a gray Saturday afternoon in the grocery store parking lot. I was just about to step out of the car to buy toilet paper and pretzels. I pulled on my car’s emergency brake, as usual, and the world stopped. My heart took a long drum solo. Then I released the brake to see what would happen. The crow flowed, the corner light changed, a car honked, and I swallowed a build-up of saliva. I pulled the emergency brake again, and once more everything stopped. All shall love us and despair, I told my Honda, stroking her gently on the dashboard. I strolled into the store, swerved around the entranced shoppers, and helped myself to the most expensive toilet paper and pretzels. It was the least the store could do to honor my discovery. Back in my car, I unstopped the world again and drove off. None of the drivers around me had any idea the power my hand commanded. On Hillcrest Ave., I found myself easing the Honda over the speed bumps with more care than usual. Parking the car in the driveway, I tugged without thinking at the emergency brake. That’s how they discovered me: Driver Found Frozen in Car with Stolen Toilet Paper and Pretzels.