I sit in the parking lot of cabellas on a winter evening. My dad and I watch metallica music videos while the car heats up. I know I will never feel like this again.
It’s my 12th spring, I barely make it through the dry Texas winter. It’s the first thunderstorm; a meeting of lingering cold and texas’ humidity brews right above me. My dad calls me out to his garage. I dread walking in there everyday, the alcohol smell somehow seeped into the concrete floor. My dad pats the lowered trunk of his car. “Keep your feet up” because god forbid I get struck by lightning.
greycore 