#padiddle

I’ve never met anyone who takes Padiddle as seriously as Owyn, Garett, Brandon and I.

The tiny dancer holds him close, all headlights counted. Or so he thought. As the dancer pulls him even closer, it never occurred to him that there was one headlight he never counted: the one responsible for dozens of smiling padiddles to road-trippers all across the country. They only drove at night. Thus all the padiddles. And on that summer roadtrip, he would be one headlight short of every night’s count. He would always be one headlight short. His vision had never been turned inward. But he would always have her, his tiny dancer. Finally. At least his ever-outward vision did that much for him. That’s arguably the only good thing it would ever do for him.