Photo credit @Al Forbes
Held In Memory
by T. Delaplain
I slide into the backseat, lie on my back and imagine the moonlight. I’m assaulted with longing so intense that it can only be desire. The taste of your breath lingers still. I run my hand over the discolored upholstery. I can almost smell the vanilla ice cream mishap: kids and dogs and chaos.
My tears cloud the rear view mirror again. We followed you to the graveyard, this chariot and I. A hundred years of holding space tethered by a thousand memories. I’m not trapped or lost. I have found my heaven, here amongst the litter of memories.
For more old-time stories of cars and memories go to Friday Fictioneers. Our hostess will give you 100 words to take a ride.