We sat in silence as I looked out the car window.
We were passing through a tunnel.
“Why don’t you ever have energy anymore?”
He asked me, one hand on the steering wheel and one on the
Cap of his gatorade bottle.
I stared out the window,
Not having the energy to answer, but giving a shrug.
A shrug these days was all I could expel,
The weight on my shoulders too heavy to lift them up
Any higher than that.
The tunnel stretched on for miles.
I counted everything that was inside.
27 tunnel lights.
4 lanes.
14 red cars.
2 pairs of eyes
Looking out the window.
I pressed the unlock button and watched the glass slide down.
Then I stuck out my head,
Letting my hair flap in front of my face and against the side of the door.
I relaxed my neck so my head rested on the
Part where the glass is hidden away.
Reveling in the wind touching my face and the energy it gave me.
My fingers trailed along the top of the car mirror,
Tracing it.
I looked up to see if anyone else was tracing their car mirror
With their dark hair whipping along the highway
Like it’s own Being on the road.
No one else’s eyes met mine.
So I closed them.
Just wanting to feel.
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