The car's warm. It's spattering rain, sparkling the lights of passing cars onto the windshield, cleared and reappearing with each tick of the wiper. There's a couple nestled against each other in the seat in front of me, and in front of them the driver's silent and intent, watching the road. No one's talking, and the radio's playing one of those pop songs with the big easy sing-along chorus everyone knows for a while. We're all lost in our separate thoughts in the comfortable silence, watching the dark houses fly by through the windows, quiet and alone together. Behind me's a long week of school, in front of me's three or four hours of homework. But I'm adrift, away, In Between, in the warm quiet car in the rain.

back to the highway that never ends