You Drove

You were driving, remember? The traffic was driving us mad.

It drove us up, you drove us up, onto the curb.

There we were, parked.

Footpath.

Peak hour folk flowed in droves.

You took my hand, remember? We left the car there.

Right there.

“It’s us, or we die.” You had no more patience.

The hotel breathed us in, along with idle fumes, trailing tail lights, and the storm that hovered confused in the dusk.

Just above.

Just us.

You drove.