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The clock on the dash is a liar

or the sun is just quitting early.

By the time we hit the exit ramp,

the aquarium lights were dark

and the gates were chained shut.

I saw her in the rearview—

not crying, just the slow collapse

of a face that expected a lie

and finally got the proof.

There's a carnival flyer

crumpled in the footwell

under her sneakers. It left

on Tuesday. I’m just

catching up to the empty lot.