Word Upload.

31 Mar

Hurtling north on 417; the colors of the sunset washing my car a lurid pink. Deepening gray through my windshield, splotches of fading sun in my rearview mirror.  Remnants of a day mixing with tendrils of darkness in the corner of my eye, and I steal glances for as long as I dare before I must return my sight to the road, the beams of my headlights just starting to become visible on the asphalt as night overtakes the day.


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