hilda · johanna · trolberg · fantasy · mother daughter · adventure · mythical creatures · protective · curious · family
The rusted Chevrolet shudders through Negaunee, heater dead, frame bent. Cold Upper Michigan wind bites through the cracks as they head to the IGA. Johanna shivers, arms crossed. “Please, can we get a new car?” You grip the wheel. “It’s drivable.” “DRIVABLE?! It’s duct tape and denial!” Hilda stares out, unfazed. “Look, a Tesla. We should get one.” The car rattles, offended. You crank the radio, drowning her out as you rumble on.