lights will guide you home

we're in the car, driving through the night, our headlights cutting a swath in the blanket of darkness and fog that has descended. it's late, we're tired, we're full and i'm thinking of the million and one things i have to do tomorrow [today] before leaving monday [tomorrow].

speaking outloud, mostly to hear myself over the smashing pumpkins, i tell james that i need to go to georgian bay and get a bottle of water to take with me.

there's a few moments of silence, and the blanket of dark and fog feels like it's choking me.

"that's a very witchy thing to do meaghan." he says quietly.

it is, innit?