book of days serial #12

On the tenth day of October at quarter past six in the evening with a perfect cool sunset on the desertsky and an autumn wind blowing through the valley she found herself in Burbank. Not the Burbank of Disney or Bob Barker, but of megalithic anchors of retail, of stucco and of red plastic letters with tower lights behind them. The firmament was matting over with a back lit green. She had never meant to go as far as Burbank. She had started out that afternoon as many others, her only destination the freeway. But she had driven the Golden State and up to Silver Lake and instead of turning back when she found herself lost on the surface streets of Glendale she kept driving.