brake lights

brakes

In the night, I couldn’t sleep. I could hear the rain. It was loud, and had been falling for weeks. In the morning, as the grey light started filtering through the curtain of cloud that was everywhere, I could see the rain as it fell in melon sized balls onto our street. It was definitely November. Cold, grey, wet. The puddles outside our house were huge. If it would’ve suddenly froze out, I could’ve skated to school.
In the rain, we drove down the freeway slowly. Out my window, it looked like we were constantly surrounded by a grey fuzzy ball that had no edges. My dad looked awkward as his hands clutched the steering wheel at twelve and two. He looked tense. He hated driving, especially in the rain. He hated seeing the red bleed of brake lights dispersing in the mist. Everything always seemed to come out of nowhere when it was raining this hard.

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