The Road Home

I was on the road tonight at around 2am. I decided to take the scenic route home which was along the main roads rather than the highway. I enjoyed my drive a little too much; the roads were just so empty and the route I was following just happened to be made up mostly of new pavement so the ride was just so smooth. It seemed like the night was opening itself up to me, inviting me to keep on driving until morning. I compromised and instead took the longest way home and then some; the drive home that would usually have taken me fifteen minutes suddenly took me forty-five. A short trip in general, but spending that much time in the car alone with just yourself and the open stretches ahead makes everything seem a lot longer than it really is, especially when it's in the middle of the night. I drove on when the lights were green, and stopped or turned only when I had to. I got out of the car once for coffee and posterity, and then finally headed home feeling a little more complete. Sometimes some people forget how important it is to spend some "me" time doing things for themselves that they would otherwise feel like they have to justify to others--I don't intend on ever being one of those people.
...

The car circled the parking lot once, casting its headlights on the group of guys gathered by their motorcycles before it turned away from the drive-through lane and into a parking spot out in front of the Tim Horton's instead. The bikers barely paused their biker-talk as they glanced over and sized up the driver, but their gazes never broke from the small figure as it made its way to the doors. Three friends sitting inside at the window also glanced up from their conversation to see whose headlights had so briefly blinded each one of his eyes. The counter attendant was the last to take notice as he only glanced up after the driver cleared her throat and smiled to get his attention. As the attendant put together her order the driver smoothed out the pleats in her skirt and turned up her jacket collar against the air-conditioning. After he handed her her coffee and change, she smiled and headed back out towards her car, meeting every pair of eyes that were on her--friend or biker's--challenging them to say something or else look away; most of them looked away. Moments later the driver was back behind the wheel, the ignition was started, and the car was leaving the parking lot, its headlights once more falling on the guys by their bikes or just inside the window. The girl spent no more than two minutes there; she could have easily gone through the drive-through, but that wouldn't have been as much fun.