I Am My Sedan – Niles Baldwin

May 20, 2026

There is a lot of time in the end of my time. I suspect it is the end exactly because I feel how time feels different. Hyperaware, naming things so small I never thought I knew how small I could see and what I would call what they turned out to be. Narrow vision toward something I’ll know forever, now that I know forever will only be a little bit longer. All of life now is goodbye. It’s a way to live only granted to us who are about to die. Goodbye breathing, you felt so good to do. Goodbye to humming the song on the radio, I’m glad I learned so many thousands of songs. Goodbye how good it feels to be partway blinded driving down the road. How easy flipping down the visor makes you see clearer, and then sunglasses too. As if you and the sun have met each other’s needs so that it may shine, and you may drive within the lines where you don’t crash. Then time goes back to normal, which makes it feel bad, having known how slowly and special time can tick just for you and your last moments. I call the restaurant I go to for birthdays and make a reservation, but when they say how many in your party you want to say everyone, so in order to not be rude you hang up. Just sit at a bar and sip something that sparkles. Write a letter that could be for anyone you have ever thought about long enough to love. Then pick out the stamp from the center of the sheet, before you scroll through your contact list. The wine goes with the food, and you could call it dumb luck, or you could call it the bartender has always cared. When you get back in your car there are cars too close for you to drive from where you parked. You spin the dial so hard that the radio station plays from a frequency where you can’t hum the number. The song is from a time you used to sleep well, when someone sang to you poorly, but wasn’t that voice the best way you ever heard the words. The battery dies from some moment in your dream that you’ll remember because it was like life but less. Goodbye waking up. There feels like there are hands trying to open all the locked doors by pulling harder than they thought they could pull. The door handles are starting to feel like your ribs and shoulders. Right when you think you could tell whether they would succeed, you think to breathe, then don’t.