Edit- July in Colorado
If you saw us through the window, I don't think you'd recognize us. If anything, I think we'd just look like two strangers holding Blizzards upside down, spoons in hand, waiting to see if they were strong enough to withstand the urge to drip.
I don’t really know how we got here or where here is exactly. All I know is that the outline of the mountains gets harder to see as the sun goes down. We're visitors here, just passing through. I’d go as far as to call us tourists but there isn’t anything else worth seeing here. The only attraction seems to be the Diary Queen’s neon lights that shine through the blinds. It’s not necessarily inviting but tonight it’s my treat. I put on my new dress so that he can see me, see just how the maroon falls, hugging in all the right places.
The humidity makes the cheap fabric stick to me as we run out across the road. The cars keep driving and you take my hand and for a minute it feels like everything is how it should have always been. Safe in the spotlight with you. The headlights shine brighter in an effort to show us off. It feels like summer love among the lights. But the heat it brings makes my hair frizz and my palms sweat as I let go.
The sign flickers, the neon sounds tired, but it’s late, open, and in walking distance. I pick the table in front of the window facing the road. The town's name isn’t important I decide. I'd like to think of it as a rest stop, on the road to someplace better.
I don’t really know how we got here or where here is exactly. All I know is that the outline of the mountains gets harder to see as the sun goes down. We're visitors here, just passing through. I’d go as far as to call us tourists but there isn’t anything else worth seeing here. The only attraction seems to be the Diary Queen’s neon lights that shine through the blinds. It’s not necessarily inviting but tonight it’s my treat. I put on my new dress so that he can see me, see just how the maroon falls, hugging in all the right places.
The humidity makes the cheap fabric stick to me as we run out across the road. The cars keep driving and you take my hand and for a minute it feels like everything is how it should have always been. Safe in the spotlight with you. The headlights shine brighter in an effort to show us off. It feels like summer love among the lights. But the heat it brings makes my hair frizz and my palms sweat as I let go.
The sign flickers, the neon sounds tired, but it’s late, open, and in walking distance. I pick the table in front of the window facing the road. The town's name isn’t important I decide. I'd like to think of it as a rest stop, on the road to someplace better.
As I watch the traffic dull, and the lights dim I think about us. You sit across from me, but I talk into my cup. People pass by, peaking up the window. Do you think they wonder who we are? I think we’ve run out of things to talk about. But don't you think that they know we aren’t really from here? I look at you and me and we look like we sort of belong in this place.
My vanilla ice cream is missing the vanilla, but it's cold, and I dig around for the brownie pieces, ignoring the fact that they're stale. You get what you pay for, and I paid fifty extra cents for fudge.
Do you think that they can hear the silence through the window?
My vanilla ice cream is missing the vanilla, but it's cold, and I dig around for the brownie pieces, ignoring the fact that they're stale. You get what you pay for, and I paid fifty extra cents for fudge.
Do you think that they can hear the silence through the window?
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