She killed the engine. The quiet of the rural Virginia night rushed in—crickets, the distant creak of a wind-beaten oak, and the soft, steady breathing of the woman asleep in the passenger seat.
Mina started the engine. Heat poured through the vents. Elara leaned her head on Mina’s shoulder as Mina guided them back onto the highway.
“Thank you for tonight. For the 16th.” Loving ladies 2024 01 16 -- 00-33-1226-04 Min
“I’m glad it’s still the 16th,” Elara said suddenly. “I was afraid I’d sleep through the whole day.”
“Come on,” Mina said, squeezing Elara’s hand and letting go. “Let’s get you some carbs.” She killed the engine
“Why? What’s special about the 16th?”
End.
The road stretched ahead, dark and endless. The clock ticked past . The 16th was still alive, if only for a little while longer. And Mina drove on, Elara’s hand resting on her knee, the both of them loving each other in all the small, unremarkable, extraordinary ways that loving ladies do.