Not a cloud in the sky. Beneath the glistening flora of the roadside, a mosaic of light and shadow fanned through David's eyes. It was the first sunny day since the weekend. It was a Thursday.
This is nice he thought to himself, glancing at the grocery bag resting at his feet. It's contents were a pound of roast beef, mustard, swiss cheese, carrots, hummus and alfalfa sprouts. A six pack of Budweiser cans was on the floor next to the bag. David and his girlfriend, Abby, were going on a picnic. They had been driving for approximately 40 minutes, heading north towards a pond that David had been to countless times before. Abby was driving. The mix tape that David had been creating over the past two days was playing through the speakers of her white 1989 Honda Accord. Sebadoh, phaser guitar, loaded verse.
I love Sebadoh, Abby said, her eyes focused on the road.
David poured his lukewarm coffee down his throat. I do too. Do you know if Lou Barlow is singing or playing the drums? he asked, smiling at her.
I think he's singing.
I like to think so too. Then, feeling a wave of elation, do you mythologize anybody?
What does that mean?
Is there anybody that you know, directly or indirectly, that you ascribe metaphysical significance to?
I don't know how to answer that.
Sometimes I mythologize you. David smiles, beckoning elation, it comes, he feels himself doubly.
Do you mythologize yourself?
Yeah, all the time. Mostly when I'm with you. Like, I love you. I guess that's not a myth, but it makes me feel metaphysical. He laughs, and she does too.
Well, I love you too.
I'm getting into literary genres, and I think that applying literary significance to popular song lyrics is pretty fun. Basically I just wanted to say that Fleetwood Mac is magical realism.
There is a pause. I don't know much Fleetwood Mac, Abby says.
Yea me neither.
David can tell he is caffeinated and it's probably causing some illusions of grandeur regarding the interest of his private thoughts.
He reaches into his shoulder bag and uncaps a pill box. Shuffling through the different colored tablets he pulls out a yellow Valium and puts it in his mouth. He doesn't mask his gesture, and he doesn't say anything after he washes it down with a drop of cold coffee.
What was that? Abby asks, looking over at him for the first time in a while.
A Valium
How many do you have?
I think four more.
Abby reaches down to the cup holder and brings a can of seltzer water to her lips.
It is 11:45 in the morning.
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