Yellow Car

writerlyintents

I thought about the dream I had last night as I walked down Elmer Street with a homemade bouquet of sunflowers. The sun has yet to rise and everywhere was mostly deserted. Only the sound of the occasional car driving past and my own breathing filled my ears. I would’ve driven to where she was, but my car was in no shape to take me anywhere. And for once, my earphones weren’t plugged into my ears. I had too much on my mind to let anything distract me.

I’d dreamed of Elaine. Blue eyes, curtained by strands of black, and hands that were always balled into fists resting on her laps. Her eyebrows were furrowed and one corner of her lip was slightly pulled back, as though she had just taken a bite out of a wedge of lemon but was trying to play it cool—as she does with most…

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