Chasing Cars

We both wake up at 5am to drive back to Johor for the beginning of the work week. It has become a habit for both of us to leave together, despite me not needing to drive as far as he does. 

It seems strange that I would take pleasure from this. Pleasure from just the two of us, racing our cars down the highway down the brightly light sections, watching lamp after lamp go by. Strange that I take such pleasure stopping by the petrol station to fill our tanks halfway down while you drop by the store to grab a quick bite and an energy drink. 

I watch you slow down behind me as my car starts swaying, and realize I’m sleepier than I realize, and that you know it too, and you’re watching to see if you need to give me a quick call in the case that I don’t respond to your high beam. 

There’s something intimate about our convoy together, despite being in separate vehicles, almost as if we’re communicating in a strange dance. Almost as if we are the only two cars on the highway at this time of morning, enveloped in darkness.

Catching a quick glimpse of your smile as you overtake me. 

Saying our goodbyes as we take our separate exits. 

Waiting for your call the moment we separate ways to tell me you miss me. 

It’s funny the things you attach sentiment to, and yet somehow, these commutes are precious to me.