When the rain was quietly, gently or hard drumming against the window pane, it was telling its own terrible and at the same time beautiful story.
I loved listening to him and sometimes imagined that he had told me where he had been.
We had been driving for quite a while now, through the hammering drops of a screaming creature.
Next to me sat Liam and Kyle, my two-year younger brothers, who resembled each other, but not on one of the many human traits that connected them.
At the moment they were sleeping, quietly and like little babies, leaning against each other and about to awaken from their probably wet dreams.
My mum sat in front of me trying to solve a relatively light Sudoku on her cell phone, while my dad next to her had his eyes on the street, sometimes wandering to look in the rear-view mirror to make sure everything was all right.
"Hey, guys! Wake up," Dad shouted to the back, and two brown-haired teenagers were waking up from their dream. My brothers had fallen asleep as soon as the car had started to move and had only given a few little snorers in between.
Confused, the two looked around and noticed that they were still sitting in the car and that she had disappeared a quarter of the day in her dream.
On the GPS it said that we only had ten minutes to drive until we would leave the highway.
After that there were only a few moments left until we would drive to the more rural town of Bucksville, where Grandma Thea lived and grew up.
Surprisingly Bucksville looked quite decent, the people moving on the sidewalks also looked quite normal.
I had imagined a bunch of xenophobic bourgeois under such a city, but apparently there was only the opposite.
"Welcome to Bucksville," grinned Mum, and for the first time I saw this flickering in her eyes. It was a sad but happy flicker.
What was wrong with her?