In the car

The Journey to Affection

Inside the car, there was the silence of the night and the soft sound of the engine. Jason was in the passenger seat, his head resting on Jessica's shoulder, his eyes half-open, half-closed. The exhaustion of the whole day, the party, the warmth, the caresses, the kisses—all lay on him like a heavy blanket. His breaths were slow and deep, but he wasn't fully asleep; just on the border between waking and sleeping, where the world becomes soft and silent.

Jessica was driving, sometimes tracing her fingers through the strands of his hair, sometimes pausing and stroking the back of his ear. Jason didn't even know where they were going. His mind was empty; no questions, no thoughts, no worries. Only warmth. Only presence.

He didn't know that tonight,

Jessica's embrace was his home.

He only knew he was safe.

He only knew someone was holding him.

He only knew sleep was near.

Jessica reached a quiet street and parked the car in front of her house. She turned off the lights, but not the engine. She looked at Jason for a moment. Sleepy, tired, peaceful. She smiled and whispered:

"We're home, darling."

Jason didn't fully open his eyes, just nodded; neither awake nor asleep. Jessica unbuckled her seatbelt, opened her door, walked around the car, and took Jason into her arms again. She lifted his tired body like a light feather, closed the door with her foot, and walked toward the house entrance.

She took out the key, opened the door, and turned on the hallway light.

Jason was in her arms, his head on her chest, his breath on her neck.

Jessica closed the door, took off her shoes, and quietly headed toward the bedroom.

Jason still didn't know.

He still thought it was just another night, another sleep, another embrace.