I drive to work, watching the raindrops pool on my windshield before being whisked away by the wiperblades, a blurry grey world made clearer by the sweeping away of wetness. I feel warm, red heat shining in waves from either end of my car, making the interior that much brighter than the outside world. A cassette tape plays in the background, ‘Nothing’ by the Dandy Warhols the next song in line to be played. Thankfully my car came with a halfway decent sound system; even archaeic tapes sound good in my car.
I turn the corner, red turn to green, and pick up speed as I reach my destination. Traffic picks up as I sing along to my tape, created in November 2002 and decorated with my pink scribbles. My car splashes through puddles, slows down, stops as I turn to the right. I navigate my way through puddles and people, wheels contacting pavement as I stop and start once again. I stop, wait, and turn again, and park. I am greeted by cold water when I step out, and I curse that I didn’t bring an umbrella today.
The song fades from my mine as I walk toward the brown-bricked towering square in the air building I enter. Smiling to myself, I begin my day.