The only sound in the car was the inane drift of music on the radio, the whir of tires over the highway. My mother clutched the steering wheel while I watched the trees blur by the window. She pulled into the driveway and parked. We both exhaled.
“Honey,” she began. “Are you sure about-“
I threw the passenger side door open and leapt out of the car. I didn’t even stick around to hear the end of her sentence.
A shower, I thought. What I really need is a shower.
As the hot water beat down on my head and…