December

It was the middle of December. I was in a car parked outside of a Burger King on the outskirts of a small college town. I was waiting for my Rachel. I was passing the time reading a novel with a silver cover. I didn’t know much else about it other than it was the basis for a horror film from the 70s. Most of the time I judged books by their covers. I liked the way the silver cover felt in my hands, cold and glossy.

The car door was wide open and the cold air was blowing into me. It might have been raining lightly but I couldn’t quite tell. The radio was playing a song my Mom used to always sing when I was a kid, “The Night Chicago Died”. Right then I felt good, as if the world could end right then and there and it would be o.k. If I could see the buildings fall and the sky light up with fire, it would be spectacular enough to be the end for me. Life flashing before my eyes as the world collapses. These are the thoughts that I am occupied with on a winter’s night in a one horse town. I can barely concentrate on my book, reading the same sentence 4 times in a row to comprehend it. Each second feels like a minute when Rachel isn’t around.