They were all driving down Gravois, rather, the carpool driver was, Meg. They were all there, though, Debbie, Kate, Lianna, Rob, the two middle aged woman with their briefcases and the intern squashed in the back of the Avalon, the young executive filing her nails, the secretary changing lanes without using her signal. It was a surprisingly warm day outside; the inches of snow that had been deposited on and off over the last few months were mercifully going back to their creator, leaving big black swatches in their wake. They were all speeding down Gravois from the ADP building, shiny and bright with it’s steel-glass facade. Megan ran through the stops in her mind: Kate, Rob, Lianna, Debbie, ran through the directions in her head, Gravois to Weber to Fall Ridge then Fall to Weber to Watson to Elm to Joy then Joy to Elm to Two-Seventy West to McKnight to Oakwood then Oakwood to McKnight to Two-Seventy East to Forty to Mason to Conway to
She screeched to a halt, making the nail file slip upward, Lianna cursing, a thump as the car lunged back, the seatbelts snapping everyone back into their seats. Meg just sighed exasperatedly, drumming her fingers against the tight leather of the wheel, smoothing her hair with the other one. She glanced to the right, out the passenger window past a fuming sales manager through the tall black wrought iron fence to the Grant Deer Park. During the summer, fall, and spring, the ‘temperate’ months of Mesalia, white open-air buses would crawl over the road just within the fence; GDP stamped on the sides, white fringe on the canvas roof swaying, red-faced tourists snapping picture after picture of their fat toddler with a caribou, a Texas Long Horn, a bison in the background. Meg saw a caribou now, through the bars, standing on the empty black asphalt patch. It was licking at a puddle of water, and she looked, smiling, at the placid scene
Meg paused, frowning. What a strange thought! She turned back to the red eye, and when it blinked green Meg jerked the gear stick and thumped the gas pedal so that it brushed against the carpeted floor. And they left, the Ohio license plate reflecting the dim January light, the thought left there in the muddy pool.
