Meteor Shower - A Micro Story

The tires crunched against the ruts of packed snow and ice as the car turned out of the driveway. A mile or two down the road the car bumped over the train tracks, rattling the pennies in the cup holder. At the field—next to the graveyard—he turned off its engine.   

They drove the same road every Sunday and when they couldn’t sleep—but even so, the woman in the passenger seat had circled it on the map. She had creased it against its folds, and placed it on her lap. It would be the clearest spot to watch the meteor shower.   

The headlights, long through the dark, stretched across the empty field. The car sunk into the deep snow, settling with a groan against the ground. The old seats reclined so fully that they were nearly flat—an empty baby seat, strapped in the back, between them. The smell of stale cookie crumbs in the upholstery mixed with the faint scent of cardboard pine. The back hatch window was wide enough to stare up through. They knew if they were patient, they’d see something.

Thanks for reading my micro story. If you'd like to read some of my longer work, you can find one of my short stories here. If you're interested in the flash/micro form, swing by again soon as I plan to share a few how-to posts.