Mystery Number Two Alexander Diefenbach ‘23

reflected from the gloss of seawater thrown against the side by the rogue drops escaping the waves fervently crashing below. Instead, there are weeds at its base, forming a border between the gravel and stone, and a lone vulture circling overhead, declaring its presence with shrieks — it seems to be following our teal jalopy whose coat of paint obscures what lies beneath, rotted innards; that old buzzard waits to prey on us as if it hasn’t seen roadkill in months and we are a moment away from starving. I can feel his eyes on me, interrupting my thoughts on the lackluster scenery. I want to ask him to stop, stop his eyes from staring through me, but I won’t be the one to break the silence. I turn to face him, but he has already averted his gaze. This chance of amity is now gone, but I can’t say I’m too disappointed. We’ll drive and go our separate ways. There’s no need for us to be friends or to even speak. At least this way I can enjoy my little window in silence, however bland the image on the other side may be. I want to return to my dream, but I know I won’t be able to. I’m stranded in this hollow imitation.

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