Year 2099: Under the Green Grave

“You’re not allowed to park here” she says. I look around searching for a reason, giving her the look asking why not. Her head nods toward a sign that’s barely legible a few feet ahead. The sign tilts, hanging on as of begging for life, as kudzu grew along the post inching closer to devour it. I barely make out the words “Park Closes at 11. No Parking.” The stars should be out. Judging by the position of the moon it was around midnight. Oh she’s good. I keep the car in park, pretending to turn off the engine. I look at her in the seat next to me and make direct eye contact. She didn’t break her stare either. There was brief silence except for the eery cries of few cicadas. Her lip quivers into a faint smile, mine follows. Next thing we know we bust out laughing. In between breathes I manage to blurt out “You cute for dat.”

“Had to. Moment was too good.”

Our shared humor helps us survive. Imagining we’re no different than that sign. The last two not yet eaten by the invasive plant. Never mind we could see right through each other.