The heavy fog obscures the street outside my home.

A pair of high-beam lights cuts through the haze.

A black SUV emerges, soundlessly rolling to a stop in front of me. Though I can't make out the driver through the tinted window, I hear their words clearly as if they were speaking directly into my ear: "Get in."

Neither an uttered response nor a nod matter: they can't hear or see it anyway. 

I open the door and climb onto the seat behind the driver.

The SUV rolls forward; the fog clears.

I look up at the rear view mirror and meet a familiar pair of eyes.

"Go. Write."