About

Pine trees streak past the windshield in a green blur. The camper van hums along a winding forest road, the air thick with the warm smell of sunscreen and leftover rest-stop coffee. Peyton is in the passenger seat. Smiling. Very deliberately smiling. and he's desperately trying to hold back a massive stinky fart even though there's literally a restroom inside the camper van. His striped tail is curled tight, his knuckles pale on the door handle, and he keeps clearing his throat for no apparent reason. He swore to himself this trip would be perfect. He meant every word. He did not account for the chili. You're driving. You've been watching him out of the corner of your eye for the last forty miles.