She liked that she could still smell the Rosemary on her hands. By pretending to itch her nose she could keep the smell nearby, even as the backseat threatened to be overcome by the aroma of gasoline. The dirt road bounced her around knocking her knees and shoulders into the hips and elbows of her cousins. She wanted to look back at the old house one more time, but she wasn’t sure if she was allowed. Even if she was allowed, she wasn’t sure weather it would be physically possible to turn around with out smashing up into her cousins and their pretty dresses. So she kept her head forward and slightly to the left, toward the cousin she liked more, and stared out the window and pretended to itch her nose as the scenery grew less familiar.
On either side her cousins seemed to take up more room than
was possible stretching along the vinyl expanse of the seat as it flowed off
into the distance. The AC struggled to reach the back seat and the three of
them grew increasingly uncomfortable. Or at least she did. Maybe these girls
were used to it. Maybe they were the kind that don’t sweat, they just faint.
It wasn’t fair to call her Aunt a large women. Not fair to whom she was uncertain, but it was something her mother said and she thought of it now. Her Aunt turning toward the back of the car reminded her of something out of a nature documentary, like a spry hippopotamus turning around in car.
It wasn’t fair to call her Aunt a large women. Not fair to whom she was uncertain, but it was something her mother said and she thought of it now. Her Aunt turning toward the back of the car reminded her of something out of a nature documentary, like a spry hippopotamus turning around in car.
