Clyde drove with the pace of a turtle, hands steady on the steering wheel as the afternoon sun spread past the windshield. His eyes kept flicking to the passenger seat where Micah sat slumped against the door, still fast asleep. The coat wrapped around him was pressed against his chin, his hand clutching it tightly, and his face, usually full of sass and sharp remarks, looked calm and peaceful. Clyde didn't dare turn on the radio or even touch the gas pedal. He didn't want to risk waking the boy.
When they finally arrived at his building, Clyde pulled into the underground parking space and switched off the engine. He unbuckled his seatbelt and stepped out. He rounded the car slowly and opened the passenger door with care. Clyde hesitated for a second, then crouched down. He unbuckled Micah's seatbelt.
Micah didn't stir, only let out a soft sigh and curled a little more into the coat.
"Still out cold," Clyde murmured under his breath.
