Cars And Cradles

The drive was rocky. Hanging out of the window of the car speeding past pine trees, barely clinging to the edge of a degrading dirt road, she felt free. Sitting on the edge of her seat, she stuck her hand out the window and played with the wind whipping past her fingers. Up and down up and down her hand went. As the road got rougher she tightened her seat belt, the last vestibule of safety in a spiraling series of events. She tucked herself in as if waiting for the kiss that never came, that hug that never happened.

From Guest Contributor Noah Bello