In the Morning
DELILAH
I don’t remember the drive back to Javi’s house. I don’t remember pulling into his large driveway.
I don’t remember easing the Audi into his garage, and even then, it is a blur for several seconds after, as I watch Javi walk away, phone still in hand, heading firmly in the direction of his home office. My consciousness comes rushing back to me in that empty garage, and when it does, it feels like I am stuck in the air, moving through a clear-coated molasses, unable to function with any sense of haste.
It’s amazing how the human mind works.
For as short as the trek between Javi’s garage and the inside of his house really is, to me? Tonight? It is one of the longest walks I have ever known. I’ve still got my airport luggage on me, the bags inexplicably and impossi
