Her face, normally lit up with whim and fantasy and a baseline of lightheartedness, was drawn and closed.
Eyes focused on the blank middle
distance, lids open but no data was being transmitted from the orbs to
It was a worrisome sight.
a large hand on her thigh, he contemplated her sudden sadness. Any
other person might dismiss the strange silence pouring out from her
being but he immediately noticed the change. Quietly he watched her as
she twisted the steering wheel in its sturdy column to the left and
right in a practiced dance with the road, her autopilot light blinking.
“Where are you...?”
his query remained trapped on his tongue. His fingers tapped on her
naked flesh, trying to grab a glance from her, and it worked...she
turned and flashed that fake smile of hers, the one that stands out in
such contrast from her usual smile that it was almost painful to behold.
She was lost in thought alright. Absent. She’d return, he knew.
always did, and with just as much energetic vigor as always.
“Doesn’t stop it from hurting.”
wish there was a way to speak these sentences, in real time words
created by mouth and lips and tongue. I wish I could show you that I see
these moments from every angle, from mine and yours and the
third-person narrator I’ve conjured up. That when I have fallen
temporarily from behind the wheel... that I am so extremely aware, of
everything, analytical of each feeling that I’m having and each feeling
that my feelings make you feel and I get so paralyzed by the weight of
all of the topics that need starting, all of the moments that contribute
to this temporary sadness that needs explaining... It crushes down on
my shoulders and squashes all of the light and humor out of me. I have
no laughter to spare, no appreciation for the absurdity of anything. It
is a stark feeling of sudden alertness and comprehension of the sadness
that lies in wait for each person on this planet, and I feel it all at
How can I explain the sudden rush of love and empathy I feel for people I don’t know?
How can I explain the lingering residue of love and empathy I feel for people I used to know?
It is not an appropriate thing.
“Roll your window down.”
words leave his lips with a hopefulness that reaches her, wherever she
is, deep inside of her thoughts.
She rolls her window down and he
instructs her to take her hand and feel the rushing air.
“Feel the wind around your fingers...how you can grab it but yet you can’t.”
If only you could understand how fitting and perfect your words are. I grab it all, and yet it slips by me.
this moment I am looking at the road, and my hand, and your face all at
once. My autopilot is finely tuned and we cruise a steady two miles
above speed limit even when the speed limit changes. My hand moves
fluidly through the cool breeze that lingers after the summer storms,
the ones that leave every afternoon windy. Your face...
face. I watch your face as you gaze so intently at me from the
passenger seat. I wish for once I could let you drive but my knuckles
grip the wheel so tightly that a crowbar would be necessary to prize
them away. I want to abandon the road and dive into your arms, I want to
shrink so tiny I could wrap around your neck and sleep for a thousand
years. I want to forget about all of the other faces and voices crowding
my mind and hear only yours, see only yours.
want to go home, but I feel so far. Your tapping fingers might as well
be your voice loudly calling me,
telling me to come home. I know. I feel
it. I hear you, though it’s windy out, I hear you.