Some time after the sun had retired for that day, Bethany fell asleep, with my jacket as her blanket. On the horizon out Bethany's window was the glow of a restless city, but I couldn't admire its glow for too long; I had enough trouble staying in my lane even with my eyes on the road. So I pulled into the first rest stop I came across, which was probably also the last one available for the next hundred miles or so.
It wasn't impressive to gawk at: a couple of trees planted for decoration and some streetlights to illuminate the walkways to the restrooms, but I couldn't complain; there weren't any signs that forbade overnight parking or limited that amount of time. There were about as many cars dotted here and there as I had passed on the road, which, needless to say, wasn't a lot. I thought I recognized a few as the speeders who passed me, but I couldn't tell nor did I care. I found a spot a decent distance from the other cars and then killed the engine.
As soon as the car stilled, my head fell onto the steering wheel, and my brain screamed at me to fall asleep right then and there. It's funny how when holding your eyes open becomes so much of a chore that your body isn't picky at all how, where, or when it sleeps. I could've slept there like that—I was thinking about it—but I decided to grab a blanket from the trunk and sleep in my car the way any other normal person would have.
The car grew cold some time after dusk, so I cranked the heat on low and promptly forgot that it was on. So I was taken by surprise when I smacked into a wall of cold air. I hurried to the trunk, popped it open, and grumbled to myself when I started taking too long to fetch a blanket. I grabbed another thicker one for Bethany, since my jacket barely fended off Autumn air. Blankets in hand, I rushed back into the car and shut the door quick as I could without slamming it. I laid the thicker blanket over Bethany, careful not to disturb her, since she was a light sleeper. Then I cocooned myself in my own blanket and turned to my side to face her.
Beneath the amber cone of light from the streetlight I had parked the car before, it felt like she and I were the only two people in the world. Like the rest of humanity had vanished, and the dome of light from the city on the horizon would soon blink away, with nobody to man the power plants. It was the same feeling I had whenever we would huddle together at night and lay in our bed, speaking softly with one another, until we fell asleep. Even when we got into a quarrel, we would at the very least kiss each other goodnight. I was aware that a car wasn't designed with intimacy between two people in mind and the circumstances didn't permit such rituals, but I couldn't shake the lonely feeling I had laying there.
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