100 Words / Prompt: Road Trip
She props her chin on her drawn up knee, rocking the porch glider gently in the dark. The rusty screws scree faintly in the quiet of the night – or as quiet as the city gets, in the pre-dawn hours after the gangstas collapse and before the sparrows awaken. A match flares as she lights a despotic cigarette; when the flare dies down she sees the ratty Ford parked at the curb. God, what she wouldn’t give to just hop in that car and drive, anywhere, no where. “Just a short road trip,” she would lie, if anyone asked. Yeah, right.