strangerhere

She was the song you hear and, at first blush, don't like. Well, you don't know how you feel about it so you keep listening in an attempt to discover how exactly you feel and then you reach the end of the song and you realize, you don't like it; you love it. That was Grace. She was my coworker and she was my friend. We carpooled together, I drove and she slept most of the way. "Don't get much sleep at night, do you?" I asked her, catching those drooping lids mid-descent. "Insomnia, love." She looked out the window streaked with rain; it spoke in percussive touches filling the car with quiet overcast conversation. I felt the warmth of