When He Picked Me Up

 I got off the plane and there he was.

He was driving a retired firetruck that summer, and he picked me up from the airport with the lights flashing so that I couldn't miss where he was at.

He welcomed me to the city, asked how I was doing, and every single second felt like a fever dream.

There I was, for the first time in months, back in the passenger seat of his car where I think I belong. 

It was surreal.

It felt so right. 

-Laine Waters

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