#35

garages were always her favorite places. she could be anywhere. as a girl, they were caves, they were mountains, her neighbors garages were grand adventures of derring-do.
she got older and hung a hammock, spend days reading, climbing those same mountains with the characters; it became china, it became switzerland. she thumbed through the pages, surrounded by cool concrete walls and she was in the rainforest, the jungle, tiptoeing through a herd of lions while on safari.
in college it was endless guitars, resonating from the walls, sweaty girls and boys and cheap drinks. the walls held the effects of vibrating guitar solos, even after the crowds went home.
there was no room for imagination anymore.
he told her to park her car in the garage.
it was clean and neat.
nothing stacked arbitrarily with a blanket thrown on top. no mountains.
5 blue plastic tubs, 3 drawers and a tall cabinet. white walls and a tall ceiling. no stains on the floor from junker cars.
she longed for the days of adventures.