It's 32 degrees outside. A
light rain plucks down on the windshield as I look past it and out to
the blanket of snow on the ground. At some point it must've been
below 32. The world is pitch black except for the flickering of
lights – caution lights, street lights, head lights, tail lights –
it doesn't matter. I can't tell what time it is. I mean I know what
time it is, but I wouldn't be able to tell otherwise. It's so dark that it could be 2 or 3
in the morning. A random body or two ambles along like a zombie and I wonder why anyone would be out right now. It's so silent that
I'm almost lulled to sleep but a heavy breath fogs my view through
the windshield and I remember I'm not alone. I've been up since 4
this morning completing all of the pre-flight rituals with Brandon and
Quentin and have just said my goodbyes to them at the airport. They are
returning to America and I am in a taxi heading back to my apartment.
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