Night Driving
You know now why they said not to do it. When everyone else is asleep, the world turns into a quiet place. You are not supposed to be awake. Your headlights cut across yards and you keep your eyes on the road, just in case you see something you shouldn’t.
Streetlights are dim.
The lights on the main roads flash yellow or red, blinking, bathing your car with their eerie, soft light. They urge you to get home.
Get home before it’s too late.
The radio in your car plays your favorite music station. You’ve heard these songs before, but right now they are different. They want you home too. You can’t sing along. The words don’t exist, and speaking is not allowed.
You flee town, pushing your car past the speed limit, though it feels like crawling. Houses are dark. Their outside lamps are off. Stars stretch out in the skies around you, but you don’t dare look.
Is everyone else dead?
The radio crackles, an ad plays for an event that happened the month before.
You arrive home, park your car, and run inside, locking the door behind you as quickly as possible. You go to bed in your clothes, and do not check on your family or pets.
You hope you won’t be the only person on earth come morning.
