Friday, September 12, 2008

Drabble: Roadsong


When I was a little boy, my family lived just alongside a curve in the highway. The rest of the family seemed not to notice, but I would lay awake every night, listening to trucks downshift. Oddly, I never much resented this interruption; though I’d be bleary eyed and irritable at school in the morning, that nighttime space was a kind of solitude in a house too full of people. While the rest of the house slept, I dreamed.

Now, huddling under overpasses in the aftermath of the Last War, I sometimes feel a similar solitude. Everything’s so calm.

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