In the left-hand side of the back seat in the red Kia, Grayson sat in his crumb-lined booster. In the rear window behind him was a sticker of a skeleton in a top hat pointing toward a bat mid-flight. Underneath were the words: THERE IT GOES, MY LAST FLYING FUCK.
John, his older brother, sat on the right-hand side of the back seat. He didn’t need a booster seat, but was still slightly too small for the seatbelt, which awkwardly stretched across his neck. In the rear window behind him was a sticker of a woman’s head. She wore sunglasses, a messy bun, and a bandana. The text above the head read MOM LIFE, and the text below, CLEAN & SERENE.
Something drew Grayson's attention away from the fluorescent green tablet mounted in front of him. It was loud classical music, by Mikhail Ippolitov-Ivanov, playing from the open window of a white van.
Grayson made his best monster face at John, who gave him a thumbs up, proudly displaying his recently scarred thumb.
Bauhausfrau’s work has appeared in Expat Press, Do Not Submit, and Spectra Poets.