09/02/2026
Every time my windows are down in the car and I start to feel the wind, I pull them up out of fear. I’d imagine the papers in my purse flying out and away, my cap following in suit, and then one after another, the rest of my possessions would all race away from me, on their way to freedom. But today, my heart was beating all too slow, sinking down into my stomach. I felt that familiar numbness; there was dentists’ lidocaine in my head, turning me into cotton. And somewhere in my ribs was a surgeon, picking the coronary of my chest apart and into pieces. So when I stepped out into the sweltering, September evening—the last of summer burning away in my city before autumn came to take its place—I decided that I wanted to properly enjoy the friendly weather before it turned into the bitter, biting breath of winter. The world transforms when you don’t have your windows to protect you. Suddenly, everything is louder, trucks are closer, and your windshield seems to jus...
