Hw-597 Driver < TOP ⇒ >

The HW-597 swallowed the detour and spat them back onto the interstate. Rain slowed to a mist that made the highway halo like an impressionistic painting. They passed under the graffiti-beaded overpasses and the late-night diners where waitresses wiped spoons with the practiced, economical gestures of people who knew every customer by name. Mara kept the conversation light — weather, the HW-597's idiosyncrasies, the best places to get coffee at two in the morning. Eli told a story about a dog he used to have and the way it had once chewed an entire loaf of bread in one sitting. He laughed at his own memory in a way that eased the tightness in his shoulders.

Mara watched from the bench until the woman — Lila — and the child melted into the light and into each other's arms. They mounted the sidewalk like a family trying on its shape again. Eli moved toward them slowly, as if testing the laws of gravity. Lila looked up and their eyes met. For a beat the world folded inward, a precarious, holy instant. hw-597 driver