one year

By thisnonesuch

coffee!

Service stations in the summer have a sweet sadness about them. Beginnings or endings. We are heading for Brighton. The car is uncharacteristically quiet. Then I realise. We only have child #3, which means he has no one to argue with. Ripley drives all the way. On the M25 on the other carriageway a caravan hits the central reservation. The sun goes down turning the traffic cones gold. Torrential rain. Then a full moon? Almost.

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