I-70
It was fortunate that my iPod did not win the music wars and we listened to their mp3 player instead. Music was blaring from the speakers - a mixture of hip hop and r&b with the occasional i-miss-you themed songs. Familiarity runs through her veins. She starts to move as if she was in a club and she is hypnotized by the beat of the bass and the angelic (devilish) vocals. I listen and feel. Slowly falling victim to the trance that she so masterfully brewed.
I am behind the wheel weaving in between diesels. I risk 5 seconds as her eyes reel me in. I search her eyes for signs and she searches mine for validation. 5 seconds seem like forever.
She lights up her hundredth cigarette, opening her window just enough for the ashes to clumsily fall out. A 4-way stop. I stop. The night is ending. I shift the car into drive and I mumble something in my native tongue. She dares me to translate it. I do -
“I want to kiss you”
I am behind the wheel weaving in between diesels. I risk 5 seconds as her eyes reel me in. I search her eyes for signs and she searches mine for validation. 5 seconds seem like forever.
She lights up her hundredth cigarette, opening her window just enough for the ashes to clumsily fall out. A 4-way stop. I stop. The night is ending. I shift the car into drive and I mumble something in my native tongue. She dares me to translate it. I do -
“I want to kiss you”