by Grey Harlowe
“When will we get there, Mom?” Caleb asked. Again.
Melanie looked out her window. Trees covered the landscape. Green blurred against grey and brown. It had been like that forever, more time than she could account for.
“Soon, honey,” she said. How had they arrived here to begin with? Neil was supposed to take them to the station for their trip to Mother’s. Cheaper to go by rail than by air. Something hadn’t gone right. A brake slammed down. Car tires screeching at an intersection. But here they were anyway, engines rumbling beneath their feet.
Melanie sighed. Trees continued.