Michael
As the Jeep speeds down the highway, the cool breeze slipping through my slightly open window doesn’t do much to help. The road is chaotic today, horns blaring nonstop, but I let my eyes wander over the outline of the city forming on the horizon: Polanco.
One hand on the wheel, the other propping up my head, I feel my eyelids grow heavy. The exhaustion that’s built up over the last few days hits me hard.
On my right, Antony, who hasn’t said a word the whole trip, uses the traffic jam to light a cigarette. He rolls down his window and lets his arm hang outside. Sometimes he shuts down completely without explanation, then a few hours later he’s talking again like normal. As the smoke fills the car, I ignore him and glance in the rearview mirror. Bianca, sitting in the back, has he
