Almost Home | Amber Hashmi

Watching the subtle oscillations of the headlights in the rearview mirror as the cars weave through the hilly, pothole-ridden roads behind you; sun sinking below the horizon, bathing the snowbanks honey-orange striated with the long, purple shadows of the trees at the edge of the street. You glance to the side and see the bright red LED sign on the facade of the coney island– a jarring contrast to the muted colors of the dusk sky. You don’t remember driving here. Attention zips from the building to the speedometer, to the car in front of you, to the left to see if you missed your turn, and then settling back to the rearview mirror, watching the clouds bleed pink. For a moment you wish you weren’t driving, so you could let your eyes unfocus, lean your head against the cold windows of the car, and let the rhythm of the roadway monotony lull you to sleep like when you were a kid. Blink away the weariness– you’re almost home… you’re almost home…

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