Baby, Come Home

It should have been raining.

That is how it is in the song.

The steering wheel is trembling in my grasp. The seat is heaving. The windshield is wet with the rain that is not there.

"She's in a long black coat tonight."

Red tail lights blinking, blinding. Distorted. The car suddenly feeling smaller and tighter. 

"Waiting for me in the downpour outside."

Tires lose air. The wheels fall off. 

Rain runs in rivulets down the windows. 

"She’s singing, 'baby, come home' in a melody of tears."

The fan is wheezing. Temperature in flux, cold vents battle hot air. 

Cold sweat burns on my skin.

"While the rhythm of the rain keeps time."

The traffic moves. The rain comes down hard. 

Lights flash, and dissipate. I am shivering under the heater.

Everything heaves. The wheels barely move; tires in shreds.

"Baby, come home."