Photo by Amaury Gutierrez on Unsplash

The Trip

I stand by the car with my hand on the door. Streetlights and porch lights dot the neighborhood like little halos of indifference. Lazy, robotic mules on a rope, blinking in circles of white and yellow light. I look at the lights while the voices file into the car. First the Noisy Voice with his pointy nose and black hat; his little cape flapping about as he bounces on the rear dash, jabbering and carrying on so that anyone who can’t tune him out is agitated and elevated…