strike that

before she left for pennsylvania

Talley and I sped down the highway to Eugene past the sheep and fall colors. We sang the Jayhawks, who were playing so loud we couldn’t talk over the music. I’ve known Talley long enough that I don’t flinch when she rockets between an oil tanker and a concrete divider at eighty miles an hour with one hand on the wheel and one hand on the stereo volume. I trust Talley implicitly.

When we stopped for gas she asked if I wanted anything from the quickie mart and I replied green Gatorade. She called my cell from inside to check that I meant straightforward lemonlime, not one of the many other green flavors that have emerged as part of the wholly unnecessary phenomenon of Gatorade evolution. The wrong kind of Gatorade can make all the difference, she explained. It’s true, you know? And when she came out she had string cheese sticks, too.

posted by tortaluga @ 10:36 PM