Cory Thomas

Fireflies

Mom turned the radio on just loud enough to battle the grinding of the old rental car. I had never used a crank handle to roll down my window before and the worn fabric reminded me of my grandmother’s carpet. The car had an unsettling aroma of mothballs soaked in gasoline, and any effort made to cover up either of these smells had been useless. However, I had dealt with loud cars and musty air before so it didn’t bother me as much as it did my family. What I hadn’t dealt with before was an hour-long silence between Lily, Mom, and me.