FuzzyCub

The car pulls up and idles—it’s been a week. A tortured week.

Long messages, unanswerable questions, shattered hearts.

A stranger sits in your seat, and we do not talk.

Not in that familiar, comfortable way of the past.

Not in the effortless rhythm of long drives,
your hand resting on my leg as we raced down the road of life—
or took the coastal path, just to enjoy the journey.

Tears run down our faces like rain on a windshield,
smearing what’s left of the view ahead.

A bag of returned belongings, an assortment of evidence from a life shared,
placed in your seat. A warning that the exit lane approaches.

The sign flashes CAUTION overhead.

Drive carefully. Let me know you’re home safe.