untitled

Maybe when you drive a route so many times, you forget where you are.

Maybe you zone out. Then the sight of something known and recognizable brings you back. It has been a year now, but I still wave at the familiar make, model and color, expecting to see my friend as I pass that car. I cannot tell you how many times I have waved to complete strangers here in the new city.
Who are these people driving my friends' cars? And why are my friends' cars in the new city?
What is wrong with my brain? I know where I am. I am here, in the new city.

* * * * *