66

I'm driving.
The day before yesterday.
My eyes are forward and peer through the sun glasses.
The road blurs.
I'm going sixty-six on a stretch of fifty-five, and accelerating.
Music blasts from speakers that have had music blast from them way too much.
The windows are down, it's warm, the wind spills in and rushs and screams deaf into my ears.
The road stretches for miles and into the horizon, and I don't care because I like the drive, I like the music, I like the wind.
It remindes me of another day.
You were there.
I had the music turned off, to listen to your story.
I had the windows rolled up, because of your hair.
It's a lot quieter these days....

......

...Without you here.