baltic forest

You’ve been driving for hours. To be perfectly precise, he’s been driving for hours. You’ve been looking out of the window at traffic jams, cityscapes, flat rural landscapes punctuated by a glimpse of the sea.

You’ve listed your hundred favourite films, discussed the things you’d most like to eat for dinner. You’ve stopped for coffee and a sticky sweet doughnut. You’ve swapped for a while and took the wheel while he kept you amused by listing his top ten countries to visit, his all-time favourite mixtape, his best memory ever. You smiled in relief that it involved you.

You get out, stretch your legs and he shifts back into the driving seat.

You’ve given up counting down the hours until you reach your destination, let your head fall back against the seat back and doze. You dream of driving, endless hours at the wheel.

When you open your eyes it’s almost sunset. You blink and watch the countryside rush by in blur after blur, still drowsy from your driving dreams. You see tall blurred pine trees outlined in golden light. And maybe, just maybe, you spot something moving towards you into the light. Frozen for a second, your eyes meet before the creature slinks back into the shadows.

A wolf? You say. Not really a question.

He shakes his head in answer. Not around these parts. Just a trick of the light.

You fall back to sleep, but even though you are dreaming again you can’t stop wondering about those eyes.

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