sketchbook: Saturday 12 November 2011

SAT 12 NOV 2011 12:40 p.m. IN THE CAR

Parked in the lot outside Michael's craft store while Kimmie shops. Quick rattle of raindrops falling like rice-grains on the roof. Windshield misted over with lobes of fog, making the gray day even more indistinct: it's disappearing behind the cataract of condensation.

The inside of the car is all gray too: gray padded dashboard, gray padded steering wheel, smoke-gray upholstery, gray carpeting, gray floormats imprinted with wet boot-treads and sprinkled with little maple-leaves and tan fir-needles. Kimmie's collapsible umbrella lies on the floor: black with pink polka dots; her black polar-fleece gloves lie on the passenger seat, palm to palm in a gesture of prayer.

The world outside is almost completely befogged now. The hulks of other parked cars rest stoically like boats in a marina. Next to me one car pulls away, its taillight a lone red star in the dimness. And another gray car slips into place immediately behind it like the next customer at a drive-thru.