Drive

I waited in my car to meet up with two other young men I did not know. We were to drive together to a distant city. A car pulled alongside. I looked at the driver, then I looked away. His hands on the steering wheel were scarred, his face was disfigured. I looked at the floor. Minutes passed and the third car pulled up. The driver nodded to me and walked to the other car. I followed. We traded names, the three of us, and then we hit the road. Mile after mile, we shared the stories of our lives.