One Night Under the Stars in Mexico

Fiction

Photo by Alex on Unsplash

It’s three in the morning and lightning streaks across this endless black canopy. Thunder rolls. Rain and hail and memories thrash against the windshield, rattling me to my core in more ways than one. I’ve already crossed four state lines with only two to go. I’m counting miles, white-knuckling the steering wheel.

Something tells me to turn around, pull over – think this through. But then I remember the night we sat under the stars in Mexico, drunk on tequila, listening to the waves that whispered stories to the shoreline, reporting in from the deep, dark ocean. You and I only caught murmurs of these tales, these mysteries, but we managed to fill in the blank spaces.

Even though I’m in my car, I smell seaweed and saltwater – the scent of lavender in your hair. Mostly I remember your voice and what you told me. That’s what forces me forward into the storm, into this endless night.

Lightning flashes, illuminating the landscape before me. I see silhouettes of trees and the empty, open road.  

I hope we can watch the sunrise together and begin a new day. Turn the page on our mistakes and watch the storm wash away.  

It’s out of my hands. If you say no, I’ll understand; I’ll move on.

But my life will morph into one long road, one long night, replaying memories on repeat – especially of that time in Mexico.

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Thank you so much for reading “One Night Under the Stars in Mexico” — I hope you enjoyed it and connected with it in some way.

If you could write the “ending” to this story, how would it pan out?

Take care, everyone. And thanks for being here!

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