"The breeze feels really nice outside," she said, as she rolled down the window.

"Yep." He kept his focus on the road, but every once in a while stole a glance of her.

"Is it okay if I drink this in here?" she asked as she waved a soda can back and forth.

"It's no big deal. Open one for me."

The girl looked up at him, smiling softly. As he stole another glance, a smile slowly crept across his face. She brought the drink to her lips as she watched the landscape roll by in monotonous patterns.

"You should enjoy yourself more," the girl quipped. She turned sideways in her seat, to face him directly.

"What do you mean?" he asked, keeping his eyes on the road.

"Well..." she started, tracing her finger along the dashboard, "for starters, you could put the car on autocontrol and pay more attention to me?"

She glanced at him, then looked down into her lap. The silence made her uneasy, and worried that she asked too much of her friend.

"I.."

"Actually, no, never mind, that was a dumb question to ask," she interrupted, before turning to look out of the window.

"No, it's not that. The question just confused me, that's all. I'll put it in auto, if you'd like."

She turned back quickly, forgetting about her worries.

"Good! Because...I'm tired, and your legs are comfortable," she stated with a smile, before stretching out on the seat, laying her head on his lap. His jaw dropped in disbelief.

"You tricked me."

"More or less," she said, closing her eyes, but grinning nonetheless. He looked down at her. She seemed peaceful in his lap. He was glad she asked him to spend some time with her.

"Run your fingers through my hair?" she asked softly. Her dark brown hair was smooth; it felt as if he were running his fingers through silk.

Yes. He decided he didn't want to have this moment any other way.

Labels: fiction junction

He was walking on a line, whistling to himself, when he noticed out of the corner of his eye a flash of red. Turning, he stopped whistling. That's when he heard a lighter tune than his own. He followed the sound with his eyes until they fell upon the sight of her. He'd never seen anyone like her before. She spoke to him, and it was like poetry. The words didn't make any sense, but their sounds were pleasing. They flowed out of her mouth and painted a picture before him, something straight from his dreams. He lifted his gaze from her lips to her hair. It was soft like red satin, and made gentle waves in the passing breeze.

He felt he should get closer to bask in her presence. He inhaled deeply and walked forward. He watched the ground ahead of him, not wanting to spoil the dream of her sight.

Only a few feet now and he hardly dared to look up, yet his dream was already gone. The song coming from her was no longer light and pleasing. The notes were sour and desperate. The words she spoke fell dead on his ears. Her hair was no longer the gentle satin, but more like wisps of fire. In her eyes he noticed a longing he couldn't answer to. Where did my dream go? he wondered.

He turned his back to her in disappointment and continued on his way, following the same line and whistling his tune. From behind him the words, once dead, lifted off the ground; their sounds desperately tried to find his ears, but only the sound of his whistling could be heard as he slowly walked away.