Flyover

Today as I was driving along that flyover, I remembered the last time I was traveling on it, but in the passenger seat. It was the very same flyover, with a surreal orange glow, and almost desolate, as usual. The flyover that linked his part of the world, and mine.

It was just us, in the car, on the desolate highway - an illusion that there was just us, in that very time and place. We were having a casual conversation, and laughing at times. I remember the song playing on the radio - one of my favourite. But beneath that was a looming heaviness - with the knowledge that the journey is too short, and that I would soon be back in my part of the world.