Sun slowly glides behind distant mountains. Thunderheads glow orange, then pink, then only the edges are highlighted gold.
Tires whir on the road. A car passes. Another. Blinker clicks and I glide to the left. A moment later, back to the right. Signs flash by. The highway twists and turns.
Sometimes I could believe the walls around my heart are real. Like tonight. I can almost feel them sliding up from where they've been hidden all day. The scattered tears dry on my cheeks and the glass doors close inside; the locks click into place. I brush a hand across my face. Keep my eyes on the winding road.
Dusk gives way to dark.
Half-moon appears in the sky, as if by magic. Evening star hangs low ahead.
Why do you come here? I ask it silently. Why do you bother?
Yet I know the answer. It comes for the same reason I return. Perhaps it, too, longs to stay in the safety of some far-away mountain. Perhaps it, too, aches with loneliness after a glimpse of what it no longer has.
But we are called here by One greater than ourselves. And so we come. We shine. And we wait for the morning.