"And it was hard, but you were brave, you were splendid..."

For whatever reason, I'll always remember you in the car, in the pink interstate dawn, somewhere in stark Midwest America, sleepy in the driver's seat, my feet in your lap. I always wonder about the lives of those in the run-down houses we pass in the car. I wonder if they have fulfilling lives, if if it's possible to live a satisfying life in one of those drive-through towns. The visors were down because the sun was rising, and the air was a little heavy already. It's eternally summer in my memory. We talked easy, like brother and sister, arguing over something that didn't matter. The music, more than likely, you played that fucking song for the third time. And those strings that tied us together, the strings that were straining under the heaviness of us became a little thicker, slightly harder to cut. So slowly that I kept my head down and missed the glaring facts.