Cocktail napkin stream of conciousness

We made our escape at five thirty in the morning, while darkness still held the street in its embrace. It occurred to me, standing there on the pavement, that time flies, that I could still taste the mornings in June when the sun came up long before it does now. The brightest light this morning was the fluorescent front of the all night convenience store, where we stopped before hitting the highway.
This wasn�t the escape I dreamt about, the one where we pack everything up in the car and drive beyond any specific destination. No, we weren�t out seeking our essence, or our own way, but the light thrown through the frosted window was just as enlightening. With hot chocolate balanced precariously between my legs, sending warmth throughout my thighs, it didn�t matter that we knew where we were going, because we were our own destination.