Leaves turning colors amidst outlet malls. Exit signs and I69. Semis with trailers piggyback on each other. Stop, and pay the toll.

Billboards with advertisements on them for hotels and lawyers, fast food restaurants, fireworks; bumps in the road.

She left him ten years ago. Wanted to see America. Needed to be out on the highways and backroads. Said it was nothing personal. Maybe they just grew apart. That’s what she said.

And, he stayed where he was planted. Family kept him there. Still went to his mom’s for Sunday dinner. Still swung on the same swingset in the backyard. At times he missed her. Wondered what she was doing. Never heard from her. She changed her number.

The sun shines bright through gray clouds. He can see it where he’s at and she can too. That and the moon at night. Maybe that’s all they ever had. Maybe.