- Night. Back seat of Joe’s convertible, top down, 65 mph on the Outer Beltline. Looking backwards at pursuing headlights with the rush of wind in my face, eating a bag of plums.
- Kernersville Food Lion parking lot. Singing “Freedom 90” with Brandi, as loud as possible, windows down and everything. Tray of still-warm twice-baked potatoes on my lap.
- Smith Mountain Lake, around midnight. Staring at the stars, drunk on an entire bottle of Duplin wine, swearing compulsively at how gorgeous the sky is, and seeing four falling stars. FOUR.
- High Point, cousins’ reunion. Singing hymns after dinner and not getting through the first verse because of sudden intense crying. “May the cir-cle… berk… *choke*.”
