Meltdown on Highway 101
“Why the third person?” Natalia asked as she turned into the final rest stop of the evening.
“Why do you care?” Hector said as he threw his cigarette out the window to light another.
The fog outside was heavy and the sidewalk lights painted the car in the nucleus of a mustard-colored cloud instead of revealing the sidewalk. The density matched the growing tension between them, a haze of smoke mapped in beautified clarity and giving life to dream vapors while veiling precepts born in the composition of clouds.
“They should call this stop butter,” she said as she reached for the ice chest in the backseat to grab a beer.
“I don’t know. Seems a little cotton candy-like to me,” he said looking up at an absent sky through the sun-roof.
Natalia took a few swigs before taking her dress off as Hector busied himself rolling a joint. Sliding next to him and laying her head on his shoulder she whispered, “I’m kinda curious what butter and cotton candy taste like together.”