I’m not fine, and haven’t been fine since the car ride with Angelo on Wednesday. Ever since I stood on the porch and watched his tail lights melt into the gray horizon, there’s been a thick unease trickling under my skin. Like being in a small car with him on a rainy day has turned my blood to syrup. It’s an uncomfortable feeling, akin to when I step outside first thing in the morning, and although the sky is clear and the weather forecast predicts sun, I know it’s about to rain. It’s inexplicable. Ominous. It raises the hairs on the back of my neck and tension clots between my shoulder
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