We sat eating Taco Bell in a parking lot outside of an auto detailing store underneath a weird, Michigan moon.
My niece, behind the steering wheel, contemplated the best way to eat the Mexican pizza she had ordered without the utensils the drive through guy had skimped out on.
This is what home felt like. A nighttime escape from the house and history that trapped us.
The silence and secrecy afforded by the muffled cave of a parked car; the glow of the streetlamps still standing from my childhood.
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(Image: via Tumblr: Nick Farhi - Jugheads In A Blanket Roadside, 2019)
(Title: a nod to the Faulkner novel I've never read, even though my library gave it to all staff for free decades ago.)
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