It's early.


Still sleeping next to the window, I'm awoken by curious sunlight in search of human contact. Pieces absorb into my skin while the early summer heat climbs through my veins as if it were a child on a shiny jungle gym. Lifting my body up straightway, I notice the landscape ahead of us is warped slightly or maybe its just the blood rush. Judy sees my body in the backseat and turns to Michael riding shotgun with their faces full of congratulation for coming out of my coma.


She rolls down her window to give room for her cigarette. The wind pulls the ashes off, snatching them until they are invisible, entangled with the open sky. Taking another drag before finally discarding it out of the car, I watch it tumble on the single lane strip.Then the silence between us grows like the time wasted in search of magic. We'd usually listen to music if the car had any, just the broken headlight and a dent near my door. Raising a hidden bomb from my throat, I spit it out of my mouth before it explodes attempting a conversion but dies as does my self confidence.



Turning off the highway I can see the moon so clearly even if the day is far from done. I pray to it, hoping that it would be high enough for god. We are no longer in the morning, the sun is starting to create large, awkward shadows on top of warmed ground. Past the lobster restaurant and gift shops towering like buildings on a city block, we had come to Truro after hours have gone by. Everyone of us sat on the metal hood, waiting on the breeze to cover our faces in a comfortable chill, as we try to keep the sun from our eyes.