The drive back home.

A friend once told me about this particular moment: when you're driving home, alone and in the night. It has a little of privacy and strangeness, and I've been thinking about it since I had my first car. It's nice, but weird nice. It's late, maybe you're listening to music, maybe not, but the road seems bigger than normal, and it's a moment when I leave my head in the middle on blank-thinking about something else.
I don't know how to explain it, but when you're sad or concerned, the drive might seem longer.

Tonight, I went for sushi with a friend, and although she lives very near to my place, I found myself again with that certain feeling.