The summer of you and I was filled with a sickening amount of red marbs and Strawberitas. Our time was midnight, the witching hour if you will. The town was dead and the streets dark except for the shine from the fresh rain. We stained the streets with our engines, fast with no destination, nor caring enough to find one. Seatbelts kept us in place, but I always fidgeted with mine - unclicking it on speedy spiraling highways as I found myself half out of the sunroof. At night we were infinite and young.
