The Drive
He slept in the backseat
the sound of his breathing drowned out by the crushing rush of the
of the rain.
I crept along the road
lights blinking against the black-grey grey-black of the storm.
I clutched the wheel so tightly my blood pounded like a drum.
I prayed to whomever was listening that we’d make it through.
Eventually, the rain stopped.
He slept on.