It's Still Life

Beyond an Intersection Named After an English King and a Saint
Six Sentence Story: Day 16

(Part 2) Stitched Together

I watch the sun rise in the rearview mirror, and there it is: Fàilte gu Alba—Welcome to Scotland—it’s not intent; it’s a thick-soled boot stomping, Here ends England, and I nudge Nick awake, “We’re in Scotland—four or so more hours, and we’ll see Carbost.”

“Uugck, fuckin’ crick in my neck—who’s Carbost?” he leans right in the passenger seat as I make a sharp left into a drive-thru—two breakfasts, coffee, and scrambled eggs in a flaky croissant for Hünga, “Talisker Distillery is in Carbost, and…” (I take a long, slow sip of coffee before handing my cup to Nick to hold until we’re back on the main highway), “…that’s where we’re meeting the Red-Headed Writer—The Raconteuse.”

The car’s 305/30 ZR21 tyres dig into the road from Loch Lomond to Glencoe, but Hünga whines to stop—and so we do (he needs to wet some stones and sniff wild thyme); I slip my arm around Nick, “The wind has a laugh in it today.”

The hills rise sharp as knife-edges, their slopes patchworked with shadows where clouds brush the earth, and the tarmac road stitches the valley together.

Glencoe feels… alive—not friendly, not cruel—just there, solid as a heartbeat, and Nick says, “My body aches from the bigness of it; it’s not peace, not wonder—something older, nameless,” he says, “the hills don’t care about me, and that’s the gift: to be small, and to be fuckin’ glad for it.”

I smile, keeping my thoughts to myself—this is the essence of a road trip—to remember that feeling, what that kind of gift feels like… and as a tear threatens to roll down my cheek, I turn away, blaming it on the wind.

---

Previous Instalments – To access all of the instalments on one page, please use this link

Written for Denise’s Six Sentence Story including the word “flake”.  Some artwork is created using Midjourney AI, and is identified as such in the ALT text or captioned. Images are copyright and not to used without permission, which I willingly give when asked, and when not for commercial use. Imagery and poems/prose ©Misky 2006-2025.

Description for the visually impaired: A cozy scene of a bald man with a long grey beard and a woman with long dark hair, both smiling warmly while sitting at a wooden table in a room filled with books and framed art.