So I stared at the crumbling, discolored grey bricks, and with a sigh said,
“I wish I could drive.”

She blinked for a moment, and with a “where would you drive?” placed her chin on her hands.

“I’m not really sure.” I whispered out, “, but I would drive somewhere.”

Escaping somewhere sounded very, very nice.

“Just drive and drive and drive. Probably North.”

“It’s cold up north,” she reasoned, “trust me.”

I nodded absent-mindedly.
“That’s alright. . . Maine. Maybe Rockport or some unknown bay.”

With the purple of the curtains sidled over, streams of sun eased through the pitted window; her blonde hair shone the color of corn beneath the rays.

“I’d pull my car over by the side of the road,” The crunch of gravel grumbling under long-miled tires. “get out, and walk to the water, probably down a long, weathered dock with lined planks in front and back of my footsteps. I’d just sit and do some staring. Maybe even attempt something spontaneous like swimming. . .”

The golden one’s brow crinkled – She paused her blinking for a calculating, hesitant: “In Maine. . .in January?”

A fool's grin tugging the corners of my lips, “Yes. I think that would be nice.”

“So…” she pushed a side of her wheat bangs behind her ear, “a death wish?”



It was my turn to stop blinking.

A pause; a heart-wrenching silence.

“No . . . Not a death wish . . .”
I closed my eyes to the grey, the purple, the gold.




“Not a death wish . . . just . . . an away wish.”