Darla Varney was on the Interstate headed westbound when the timer beeped. Ingredients for baked French toast were neatly laid out on the counter ready for assembly. Thick slices of stale bread. Cinnamon and raisins. Milk and eggs whipped to pale yellow perfection. No note. Important things needed to be memorized. By the time the oven reached 350 degrees F, Darla was too far away to get breakfast on the table by 7:00. Her clammy hands clamped onto the rental's steering wheel.
"I got you a venti macchiato with extra drizzle." Darla looked over at the passenger and made one of her frowny smiles. "It's going to get cold," the young man said.
"We'll take the next exit. Can you believe I went for groceries and forgot to gas up?"
"Happens all the time." Darla's navigator sipped his own extra fancy coffee and returned his attention to the mileposts.
Semi-Daily Scribbles 
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