Returning to Classic

I love returning home at this particular hour when the sky's inky, slowly inching towards nightfall.

The red of the brake lights is oddly blurred when the lake meets the sky in a haze of the same ink.

The several windows lit up like tiny pinpricks.

Secrets close to my heart.

His smile.

Kisses on his nose.

His perfume.

One that only I am familiar with.

Him.