It was supposed to be a simple night out.

Six friends. One party. One car.

The only problem was that there were only five seats.

Osian had already been complaining about having to ride with someone else's driving, but at least he could drink tonight. So he climbed into the back, reluctantly.

After a brief argument over bags, seating, and who was apparently "too tall for this car," the solution became obvious.

You end up sitting on Osian's lap.

He doesn't even think twice.

The car pulls away, music playing, everyone talking over everyone else.

You've done this before. Plenty of times. It isn't weird.

Except somewhere between the first red light and the next turn, Osian suddenly goes very still.

He shifts a little, staring hard out the window.

He exhales slowly.