Highway

The car broke down. We stood at the trunk, waiting with hazards blinking. The cars flew past the breakdown lane like a bees, we forgot that there were other people in the cars and they forgot that we were there. We waited for hours or for minutes or what felt like hours, time didn’t matter. We stopped telling jokes after we stopped counting the letter q on license plates, I think someone got to thirty seven, but I stopped at five. I didn’t get the game anyway. Nobody stopped, someone told me once that you had to put your hood up even if there was nothing wrong under there. The sun dipped low and we got to see the buds, freshly open and looking wet in the pooling gold. It hurt our eyes for a minute, but we kept looking, kept them squinting at the varieties of pink and violet. The gradients of gold and white were still visible after we closed our eyes. We forgot where we were going but it wasn’t the end of the trip. Someone said something about walking, I closed my eyes and could still see the buds, bunches of them sitting there on the insides of my eyelids. I felt warm. We all held the warmth in our stomachs till the sky passed indigo into chalkboard grey. It was alright. It was alright.

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