mavism102

It’s night time. A half moon sits fiery red against the horizon, sinking down and threatening to leave me in the dark. Stars glimmer dully behind the smoggy sky, struggling to shine through the light pollution pouring out of the city. Yet for all the houselights, streetlights, and headlights beaming out into the night, it’s still dark. I feel like I’m drowning in the darkness. There’s a kind of weight to grief. I feel it in my chest as I drive down the silent highway, ignoring exits and keeping my eyes fixed to the setting half moon. I don’t cry yet, though. I can’t. Once I do, it’s real. As long as I keep driving, it doesn’t have to be real. With one hand glued to the steering wheel, my other seeks down to my swollen belly. I feel out its firmness, the soft shifting inside, and I reassure myself that he’s okay in there still. That we’re okay. As long as he’s in there and I’m out here, I think I can get by. I won’t be alone. The fuel gage drops down another centimeter though, and