Fogged Window

The car window was fogged over.

The world outside was passing by like a misty dream.

Watery beads streaked down from high on the right toward low on the left.

The beads wandered together amid each passing light, shivering in cadence with the motor's hum beneath my seat.

They shined for green.

They sped up for yellow.

They slowed on red, quivering from the motor's idling growl.

The last islets of thawing ice clinked around the soda-flavored watery slush inside my plastic cup, swishing and sloshing with sprinkly splashes from each bumpy bounces beneath.

The tires hit each puddly pothole as if they were perforation notes from the music roll of a player piano.

The street's percussive songsheet was steadier than the sporadic serenades of chatter and laughter.

Crinkling bags occassionally burst open, releasing little dessicating puffs of salty cheese dust.

Without warning, whipping wet wind blew in and whipped my ear, drowning out everything else but the persistent pothole and motor concerto.

Annoyed and frustrated cries sounded out just a little higher than the rain blowing in until the opposite window rolled up again.

The perpetrator only folded his arms as far as the puffy sleeves of his jacket permitted and wedged his shoulders into the far corner, closing his eyes to take in the tinny notes ringing out from his headphones.

Another bag popped open upon the quieter hum of the next red light.

Chatter resumed on green, laughter resumed through a race past yellow to escape the red.

The discontent was already gone like the last traffic light, passed like another watery bead.

Nothing needed to be forgiven, because all was already forgotten.

Left behind like potholes already struck, lights already passed.

Seat belts unbuckled and passengers leaned up and over the front seats.

We were getting close, but my sight strayed sideways, and stayed sideways.

Unlike the one wearing headphones, eyes shut and attention turned inward, mine was pressed to the window like my damp cooling cheek.

Somehow, I knew I would remember that foggy window.

As the last beads trickled down and the motor stopped, as the hum died beneath my seat, as the car chimed and the doors opened to let the damp cool air blow in, I sat in the stillness.

A good time awaited me, but to reach it, I would have to leave the good time I was already in.

The door opened for me.

Wake up, sleepyhead.

I landed upon the soles of my too-tight shoes into a puddle just deep enough to soak my tingling feet.

Thudding music boomed from the open door, felt more than heard from the yawning hinged maw of a waking party demon.

Flickering embers of neon and the faces of inebriated strangers smiled back at me from the warm smoky darkness churning within the belly of the beast.

I smiled back, but then I turned to look back at that car.

If that motor kept humming...

If those wheels kept turning...

If we had not stopped there...

I could have, I would have watched the world out that foggy window for at least half of forever.