Prose

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Driver

written by: QuasiLiterate

There was just something so eerie about that moment. I had gone alone before, yet this time I was carrying along her who I had gone to see those times before. I wasn't sure of my surroundings, and in between the luminescence of the lights I would peer out of the corner of my eye to see if she was still there. Sometimes it was an orange flicker on her rosy cheek, and others it was met by the glare of her eye staring at me. I wasn't scared. It was so mysterious, seeing her focus on me through her sharp lens, hiding the ones she hadn't shown yet. By the next mile I had to again peer out of the corner of my eye while keeping on our steady journey home. I hadn't the slightest clue what to expect; maybe this time she'd be gone, as too the dream. I had gripped the seat and not the hand that I fit so perfectly into before. Yet there she was, gazing at me. The twinkle of the parkway lights transvere the circles of her eyes. She was expressionless; maybe looking over in unknowing wonder if the driver to her side was the one or an imposition of a ride to no-where. I only had one hand on the wheel, but she was driving me that night.

Comments:

Sun, Sep 7, 2008 at 3:24AM

cool lost love found again.

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