February.It was hot as hell on that first day of February. I can't remember the moment, but I know that getting into that car undoubtedly felt like climbing into an oven, no matter how long we waited with the doors open first.He drove me home in relative silence, I think. He might've missed my road, sworn and then driven round the block once to find it again. Or maybe he finally knew where it was by this point, but asked me to remind him again just to break the silence. I can't really remember.He stopped the car outside my house and it was like we'd reached a dead end.I wanted to ask him if this was it, but caught myself just short. I remembered
AnthropologyI sit;think;but don't write.