knock

She lifts her hand but can't knock on the door. She's made it this far, after all.

Why not just--

Sunlight spilling and coffee smells, the door opens on its own.

It's warm in there.

hello

the voice beckons

but her feet are planted

come with me

it asks and she turns around, finds one hand on the gear shift, one on the steering wheel

the sun overhead is blazing, blinding

she can't see a thing

to the right--

he's sitting there, like he's always been there, in the passenger

seat of your car

and sometimes you

can smell the scent

of the empty

seat but today

he's just grinning

at you

and all he

says

is

let's not

fall in love

And she lowers her hand. She can't knock on the door.