we own the sky

my boyfriend and i went on a roadtrip: eleven days, six thousand miles, ten states, two books on tape, and the grand feeling of invincibility, that nothing could go wrong. everytime we crossed the border into a new state we high-fived (high-five, fist-bump, explosion) and had a celebratory snack. everyone warned and expected us to be at our wits' ends with each other by the end of it, to become aggravated or annoyed or in need of a break once home, but to our delight no such thing occurred. i liked the changing scenery and his hand on my thigh and the inside jokes that evolved from actual funny-verbal-statements to mere eye contact.