Road 2050 in 1987

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Non-Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
True love holds out over tragedy. A good sense of humor and attraction can over come many things. Including the wreck of the day that last thirty years later.

Submitted: September 02, 2014

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Submitted: September 02, 2014



She cranked up the window with an agitated circular motion. He could almost feel her eyes rolling even as she faced away from him. Words had been exchanged prior, but now the bouncing suspension of his truck covered up things unsaid. They did not need to be spoken. The banana yellow Ford rolled over those all too familiar county roads distracting them the matters at hand.

He stole a glance at her out of the corner of his vision. She was lovely when flushed with irritation. Even on the worst of days she shimmered like the summer sun, her skin kissed dark with warmth and her curled locks bleached to honey from similar exposure. She perched her cheek upon foremost fingers as she stared out at the passing mid-July fields. He couldn’t help but wonder how long she had spent fixing herself up just to be mad at him. He could imagine her standing there, focused on the line of her lips, tracing every contour in a calm manner. She had been holding it in especially for him.

He chuckled at the thought, which warranted a sharp look from her. She sighed deciding he wasn’t worth her words. She had been planning out the evening after they would make up. In her hopes she wished for a night alone with him holding her close, but she wasn’t that picky. She didn’t care to be upset, but she would make it convincing to see what interesting things might develop. She was grateful to have such an understanding boyfriend.

It had been two years already. She never would have thought back then that she would be riding around in his dad’s old shop truck, dolled up for his amusement, searching for his attention. The way he played along was romantic. He was charming in a stuttering and timid sort of way that appealed to her boisterous personality. The truck bumped her out of her thought.

There was no time to scream. The road passed quickly in an instant, sending the other truck screeching to the left. From somewhere behind the tall grassy field the opposing Chevrolt had come barreling through the unmarked intersection at the same time they had. Their truck turned sharply to the right.

The extra time compacted from initial quickness tacked on then. The tires slowly tipped before leaving the gravel entirely. She watched, more confused than afraid, while hammers and screw drivers floated around her. She turned to for him and found him turning in the air, arms limply above his head. She felt her lap belt tighten.

All at once it was over and the truck was on its side. Somehow he had landed on top of her pinning her to the window. He franticly stood lifting her quickly, checking her over, and only after deciding she was fine looked at the vehicle. The other truck had fled so shrugging he lifted her like a baby in his arms, and in the style of the silent treatment lovingly walked her down those country roads.

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