Friday Night Saturday Morning

“Trying to enjoy what I have.” Brad responded as we shook hands.
I said cool┬álike one does, not knowing what to say, not wanting to be rude– cautious not to contrive the depth of his answer.

We stood outside, looking on. Parked cars choked the street. Nearby, shit-talkers laughed through their night and when the music came back on, I followed it up the stairs and played.

Hours later, the sun rose on me while I filled up on the way home.