So instead of turning to go home, I kept driving north up Meridian Street until I merged onto I-465.
I turned the radio up as a song I liked called “Can’t Stop Thinking About You” came on,
the bass sizzling in Harold’s long-blown speakers, the lyrics stupid and silly and everything I needed.
Sometimes you happen across a brilliant run of radio songs, where each time one station goes to commercial,
you scan to another that has just started to play a song you love but had almost forgotten about,
a song you never would’ve picked but that turns out to be perfect for shouting along to.
And so I drove along to one of those miraculous playlists, headed nowhere.
I followed the highway east, and then south, then west, then north, and then east again,
until I ended up at the same Meridian Street exit where I’d started.
The journey around Indianapolis cost about seven dollars in gas, and I knew it was wasteful, but I felt so much better after circling the city.
When I parked in the driveway to open up the garage door, I saw I had a series of texts from Daisy:
I just drew the short straw so I have to get inside the fricking Chuckie costume. See you later if I survive.
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