Forever, Until it Isn’t
The day smelled of cut flowers and suntan lotion. The finned ’85 Chevy cut a fine line down the gravel road. Cans of Bud Light bounced off the ground and took flight once we got to the main road.
I brushed rice out of my hair and couldn’t stop smiling. You held my hand. And the car? It lasted longer than our marriage. I always did love that car.