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We’re still five hours from home, and it’s raining again. The on and off drizzle adds a dull rhythm to the drive, makes time impossible to track.
I open my phone again. Instagram. People doing things. Interest, envy. Videos of dogs and roller blading set to the ambient sound of a comedy murder podcast on the car stereo. I lock the screen and look out the window.
Do billboards work? How much money does McDonalds spend on billboards each year? Are people regularly peeling off the highway in order to buy a $1 soft drink of any size?
“Billboards are stupid,” I say.
I open my phone and search “free solitaire.” I play until I win and enjoy a tiny sense of completion.
My eyes gaze out the window again. It’s still summer, but it feels like the quiet closing of a chapter. Like mother earth is deflating her donut shaped inner tube and insisting that we go back to weekly meal prepping.
I open my phone and read news that I only partially understand. Guilt. Fatigue. I feel weak for not having the capacity to get a full education on everything that’s fucked. What. The hell. Do we do.
I turn to instagram for answers. Between the pouting influencer in gingham and a sheet of freshly iced cinnamon rolls, I find a post listing actions to take and avoid in order to support Afghan people. It fills me with anxiety and excitement, a confused urgency. I donate money, save the post for later, and close my phone.
We are still in Pennsylvania, and we need gas.
“Let’s stop soon, and I can drive,” I say. “Pull over at the next exit. There’s a Krispy Kreme.” I know this from a logo sign, not a billboard. Business pay between $500-$1,000 per year to be included on a logo sign. In Pennsylvania, billboards cost between $363 and $5,633 per month. Are you kidding me? Do the logo sign.
We fill up the tank and drive across the street to the donut chain.
“Let’s only get them if they’re hot and ready,” we say, not knowing that we’re confusing brand slogans. The “Hot Now” sign isn’t on, but we order half a dozen anyway. Before we eat them in the car, I take a picture to share on my Instagram story. I am dropping a pin on my emotional map, trying to secure the first sense of whimsy I’ve felt all day. I’m trying to feel as light as the airy, glazed donut in my hand.
I eat two donuts with my cream-drenched coffee before we return to the highway. The third donut I sed aside for later. I’ll need something to look forward to.