Looking out the no one looks in glass. Inside, warm. The music, the space – the same shape, the same mass. Everything inside, defined. Everything outside, blurred. There is motion. There is stillness.
They didn’t speak. They travelled west.
They stayed the night at a Travel Lodge in Meredith. Dizzy and Lemons playing the machines in the bar. The wheels turned, dropping lines and misfits. Brandy, though neither were drinkers.
“You must be from London,” says the bar girl.
“Well, you’re so fast.”
Letitia soaks. The hot water holds her form. She sleeps. The clean sheets hold her form.
Following morning Dizzy drops down through gears. The road narrows, winds, quietens. The sea, a surprising coin pulled from an ear, appears out to the left and then, Penn Beacon, stretched out before them. The subway boys never seen the like. Miles of expanse. Breakers – folding onto the sand – sparkled . The black car rolls through town. Lemons, laughing. Why is it every one looks loose?
Maybe they high already, says Dizzy.
Maybe they heard we coming.
Letitia rises for a moment from her half-life, peers the view, smiles. Supposes she is happy, too. Happy to be home.
In the rim, rear driverside, packed tight, the thing that will bring Luella back to her. The thing that will ruin everything.
The game is to keep living. Just keep breathing.