Drive Darling

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Nov. 11

Dear Alex,

Last night we stopped at the edge of a Walmart parking lot and we sat on a blanket on the roof of your car and ate granola bars and raw hotdogs of dinner. Then we just layed down and watched the stars, not really speaking at all. You took my hand and held it.

"I'm glad we're finally doing this," you said.

"Me too."

Because I am. I really, really am. That town was rotting me from the inside out and I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't found me at the gas station. Gone back to the apartment, maybe. Or maybe Lydia would have let me bunk with her for a bit.

We slept in the backseat of your car. You didn't try to make out with me or anything, but you put your arms around me and together we kept each other warm. Your chest rose and fell gently against my back and your breath warmed a spot on the top of my head.

We woke up when the sun started streaming through the windows, giving everything a pink hue and highlighting the frost built up on the windshield. We bought coffees and bagles at Tim Hortons, got gas, and continued driving.

I've always wanted to see the ocean. And I've always wanted to spend forever with you.

Love,

Carrie

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