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The car smells of freshly washed linen.
The distinct scent of our chosen laundry detergent
and
what can only be described as heat.
I weave my fingers across my eyes
tightening
and loosening them
to create a kaleidoscope effect.
The sun creates prisms of light.
The rays of sunshine
look like jewels slipping through
the cracks of my fingers.
A playlist my partner made me
is playing.
'Ridiculously Fire Tracks'.
An audio collage.
A love letter.
I lay back reclined,
humming a long to the music,
a weighted blanket
keeping me from floating away on the tune.
By L.A. Pasquarelli
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