Nothing but the Night

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Warm Indian-summer night.

Kind of night he’d always liked, best kind for long drives. Window rolled down. Breeze cool against the side of his face. Engine humming, tires whispering a sort of bluesy accompaniment to the golden oldies playing on the radio. Highway and night both clear, sharp in every detail, lights from passing cars and trucks like distant spokes of fire in the dark. Good feeling strong in him. Hope, determination. Wasn’t just driving from somewhere to nowhere, picking through straws in the world’s biggest haystack; he felt close to the needle, getting closer all the time. Keep hunting, keep the faith. Keep reminding himself everything ended sooner or later and what he was really doing was going home one mile at a time, one day at a time, the long way around.

Home. Annalisa.

“Earth Angel” on the radio now. Annalisa.

Tires whispering fast and sweet, like her breath in his ear. Annalisa... Annalisa... Annalisa...

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