He was driving. Alone in the car, alone on the road. He knew that somehow, he had to get to her. He didn’t care how he got there, as long as he did. It didn’t matter how long it took, he knew he had to make it.
The road was dark, darker than he remembered. A memory of her walking away from him flickered across his sight. He gripped the steering wheel, his knuckles turning white. His headlights illuminated the road in front of him, the dirty white snow banks on the side, foreboding trees leaning over the road. It hadn’t snowed in a few days, but it was dreadfully cold. His doubled up sweaters weren’t enough even with the windows up and the heat turned as high as it could go. His truck rumbled in the quiet dark, the sounds reverberating off the trunks of the high trees.
She had been so quiet when she left. A look that was all she had given him before she walked out the door. He shook his head, remembering, causing the car to swerve into the other lane. He silently cursed himself, correcting the truck back into his own. The sound of that front door slamming in his face rang in his ears. But she never uttered a word to him. No goodbye, nothing. She just walked away. Almost out of his life. But not if he could help it.
The road twisted and turned, and he felt his stomach move with the curves. The radio was turned on, a low crooning voice soulfully seeping out of the old dials. He felt the music move and glide within him, as if the melodies were dictating the beats of his heart. It pained him that the seat next to him was empty. They should have been making this trip back together. They should have been together. And now there was a cold seat next to him, no longer providing him with her laughter.
There was a stop light gleaming through the leaves of some of the lower hanging branches. It blinked from yellow to red. He gently pushed the brake, feeling the truck slow under the pressure, and come to a stop. He took his hands off the steering wheel and brushed them impatiently through his hair. He closed his eyes, gritting his teeth. When he opened them, he frowned, noticing the light still red, but with no cars on either side of him. The truck grumbled under the weight of the cold night’s air, struggling to stay warm, shuttering alongside its driver. He brought his hands to his lips, blowing warm air into his curled palms.
