the ride home

You do circles in the school parking lot. Loop, after loop, after loop. There are no kids here, of course, because it's evening. You always insist on going out during the evenings because the thought of coming out here earlier, when there might be people, //kids// (just beginning their lives), that's— You can't. So you won't. This is only your second driving lesson. The first one went... not as well as you'd hoped. It was your father in the passenger seat, and you kept the windows open because (“Why didn't you shoulder check before turning?” Fuck. “I—I don't know. I'm sorry.”) otherwise you felt like you might suffocate. (You park. He asks, “Which way are your wheels pointed?” Fuck. You don't know. You don't know, and he's waiting for an answer. He thinks you're an idiot. You wanted to—to prove that you aren't just— “Um. That way?” “//No.//” Shit. “Why aren't you paying attention?” “I...” You swallow. You can't show him you're scared. “I'm sorry.”) Today, your mother is the one teaching you, and you can finally breathe. She'd suggested going down by the old corner store, because even if it's out on the road, the road there is easy. You do much of the same there that you do here. Just loop, after loop, after loop. The thought of it made your skin crawl, because there would be people. Too many people. And you are in this //machine// and if there's ever a collision between the soft flesh of a human and the sturdy metal hood of a car the human could never—- //It's okay,// you told her. //I like the parking lot.// So you loop around the parking lot. It goes... fine, but not as well as you need it to go. You could have gotten your license years ago, but you were too scared, then. Not now. Not anymore. “Your control's gotten a lot better,” your mother says. “Do you want to try driving us home?“ Your first instinct is to say //no//, but… it's almost nighttime. Home is only about ten minutes away, and the road should be empty. You peel out of the lot, stifle the dread in your gut. You used to be a student here. You know this route by heart. You will not fuck this up. Your check and signal before turning. Slow down before the intersection. You drive. White headlights pass by. People. (Alive.) Your chest jolts every time, but you focus on staying in the middle of the lane. Five minutes pass. Nothing… has gone wrong. Six... still fine. Nine. Your house is just around the corner, “—stop! //Stop//!” The neon yellow crosswalk light is flashing. You slow to a stop. Two teenagers are crossing to the other side of the street, chatting. Oblivious. You... didn't notice them. If... if your mother wasn't there, you... You park the car there, right in the middle of the road, knuckles white on the wheel. Ah. They're right about you. They always were.

{ (track: 'tense-piano-cinematic-111052', 'loop', true) (track: 'tense-piano-cinematic-111052', 'playwhenpossible') } (align:"=><=")+(box:"===XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX==")[ You do circles in the school parking lot. Loop, after loop, after loop. There are no kids here, of course, because it's evening. You always insist on going out during the evenings because the thought of coming out here earlier, when there might be people, //kids// (text-style:"blur")[just beginning their lives], that's— (live: 3s)[You can't.] (live: 5s)[So you [[won't.]]]]

(align:"=><=")+(box:"=XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX=")[This is only your second driving lesson. The first one went... not as well as you'd hoped. It was your father in the passenger seat, and you kept the windows open because [[otherwise]] you felt like you might [[suffocate]]. Today, your mother is the one teaching you, and you can finally breathe. She'd suggested going down by the old corner store, because even if it's out on the road, the road there is easy. You do much of the same there that you do here. [[Just loop, after loop, after loop.]]]

(align:"=><=")+(box:"=XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX=")[You park. He asks, “Which way are your wheels pointed?” Fuck. You don't know. You don't know, and he's waiting for an answer. He thinks you're an idiot. You wanted to—to prove that you aren't just— “Um. That way?” “//No.//” Shit. “Why aren't you paying attention?” “I...” You swallow. You can't show him you're scared. “I'm [[sorry->won't.]].”]

(align:"=><=")+(box:"=XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX=")[“Why didn't you shoulder check before turning?” Fuck. “I—I don't know. I'm [[sorry->won't.]].”]

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(align:"=><=")+(box:"=XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX=")["It's okay," you told her. "I like the [[parking lot.]]"]

(align:"=><=")+(box:"=XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX=")[So you loop around the parking lot. It goes... fine, but not as well as you need it to go. You could have gotten your license years ago, but you were too scared, then. Not now. Not anymore. (live: 3s)[“Your control's gotten a lot better,” your mother says. “Do you want to try [[driving us home]]?“]]

(align:"=><=")+(box:"=XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX=")[Your first instinct is to say //no//, but… it's almost nighttime. (live: 2s)[Home is only about ten minutes away,](live: 3s)[ and the road should be [[empty...]]]]

(set: $typewriterText to "Your house is just around the corner,") {  (set: $typewriterPos to 1)  |typewriterOutput>[]  (live: 30ms)[  (append: ?typewriterOutput)[(print: $typewriterText's $typewriterPos)]  (set: $typewriterPos to it + 1)  (if: $typewriterPos is $typewriterText's length + 1)[ (stop:)(goto: "STOP") ] ] }

(text-style:"rumble")[(text-colour:red)[''“—stop! //Stop!// ”'']] (live:4s)[The neon yellow crosswalk light is flashing. You slow to a (t8n-depart:"blur")+(t8n-arrive:"blur")[[stop.->stop.]]]

(align:"=><=")+(box:"=XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX=")[You drive. (live: 5s)[White headlights pass by. People. (text-style:"blur")[Alive.] Your chest jolts every time, but you focus on staying in the middle of the lane.] (live: 7s)[Five minutes [[pass]].]]

(align:"=><=")+(box:"=XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX=")[... Still fine. [[Nine.]]]

(align:"=><=")+(box:"=XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX=")[Nothing… has gone wrong. (live:5s)[... [[Six]]...]]

(align:"=><=")+(box:"=XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX=")+(text-style:"fidget")[Two teenagers are crossing to the other side of the street, chatting. Oblivious. (live:5s)[You... (text-colour:red)[didn't notice them.]] (live:7s)[(text-colour:red)[If... if your mother wasn't there, [[you->Ah.]]...]]]

(text-colour:red)[(align:"=><=")+(box:"=XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX=")[(text-style:"fidget")[You park the car there, right in the middle of the road, knuckles (text-colour:white)[white] on the [[wheel]].]]]

(align:"=><=")+(box:"=XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX=")[(text-style:"bold","smear","expand")[THE RIDE HOME] [[START->1]]]

(align:"=><=")+(box:"=XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX=")[You peel out of the lot, crush the ice in your gut. You used to be a student here. You know this route by [[heart]].]

(align:"=><=")+(box:"=XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX=")[Your check and signal before turning. Slow down before the intersection. (live: 5s)[You will not [[fuck this up]].]]

(text-colour:red)[(align:"=><=")+(box:"=XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX=")[= (text-style:"fidget")[They're right about you. They always [[were.->title 2]]]]

(align:"=><=")+(box:"=XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX=")[(text-style:"bold","expand")[(text-colour:red)[(text-style:"fidget")[THE RIDE HOME]]] [[START->1]]]

tense-piano-cinematic-111052: "music2/tense-piano-cinematic-111052.mp3"