two august
ten : thirty-four

we drive with no destination in mind, hoping to get lost.

and we do, for a little while. but we always wind up somewhere familiar and disappointing.

so we go to the lake. we park across the street in front of the house with the rattling air conditioner because the gates are closed and we look both ways and cross where we should be crossing and walk past the lake and up the hill in total silence.

"i wish it was starry," he'll say once we've taken our positions on the sunburnt grass. i'll agree. i wish it was starry, too.