Ficlets

The sun was gently cresting the farthest point of the horizon, splashing the blacktop with patches of yellow and orange. I always thought that sunrises were more beautiful than sunsets. There’s something special about being awake, watching one of nature’s greatest gifts, while the rest of the world is still asleep.

The white lines on the bumpy road looked orange in the light from the sun. Everything looked like it was melting.

Both windows rolled down. Acoustic music pumped up until I could almost hear the physical exertion of the speakers. Arm out the window. World at our fingertips.

He looked at me from the passenger’s seat, but neither of us spoke. The silences were something that we shared, something that we savored, like early-morning sunsets and trips down backcountry roads. We didn’t feel like we had to say anything. It was all in the look.

Destination? God only knew.

We were on the road again. And, at nearly the exact same moment, we both began singing at the tops of our lungs.