300 words about a road trip with a friend
Long road trips were an irregularity for her but familiar to him. They sat aside each other in opposite experiences. He drove because she didn’t know how. It was 11am and they had seven hours ahead of them in that small square.
She had brought a pillow and a blanket with her. There were snacks in the backseat. Their phones had podcasts and playlists curated in preparation. The road seemed long.
They were friends, of course, but they had never spent this much time together alone. Conversations would have to arise from somewhere. Surprisingly, it was never uncomfortable or tense from lack of talk. They entertained each other with stories from their childhood or early adult years. He’d had an entire saga of his life that she’d never known about. She told him how living in another country felt. They talked about movies and books. They discuss their work and exchanged ideas about politics. She explained why she loved art so much. They listened to comedians and laughed at the same jokes.
He was a solid driver. He never got tired or needed to take multiple breaks. She tried hard to be a good passenger. At one point, she grew tired, threw on a podcast for him, reclined her seat and fell asleep with her pillow. He was happy to drive with his own thoughts and didn’t resent her sleeping. It was the best scenario she could have anticipated.
The further north they drove the more the trees changed. They had started off thin and fairly short. The leaves were pastel green in colour and hung listless and heavy on the twigs. But soon colour seeped into the them. They plumped up and grew in numbers. When they were quite far north, the leaves were orange and red. They were yellow and bright green, purple and rosy pink. They were in the countryside now and life seemed sharper than ever.
When the drive was over, it wasn’t just the trees that had changed. They felt closer and safer with each other. They collapsed into their beds. Content with their travel buddies. Tomorrow was a new adventure.
