So unprepared.
That described everyone, no limits or strictures. I could include myself, and most of the time I would, but I did see what was coming - mostly through luck than any deep understanding or innate ability.
It was the dream that bothered me the most.
Sitting in some field, on the outskirts of a city, several barely running cars in a lot. She is there, the one who will remain nameless. We're naturally trying to find a good car together, not arguing, and she spies this somewhat sporty model.
The paint is peeling and has the signs of being out in the weather. Light streaks from the edges of the windows where the rain bleached color out of the paint. I get in, the engine fires up. It sounds low and throaty, like you could dare it to break the speed limit without so much as a nod.
Twist of dream logic and she is driving, talking to me over the engine noise.
She says something about being sorry, but no explanation. And then I feel it, the part behind my eyes that gives in and breathes. This being the first time since we parted I even thought of this, synapses ringing with effort, even on the chemical level this unexpected route of thoughts alarming my deep slumber.
I say to nobody in particular, out of the car in a improbable segue to an exterior location staring at the yellowed grass poking through the concrete like fistfuls of straw - that she is lucky I stuck through all the other stuff, or we wouldn't be having this conversation.
And we didn't -- have the conversation or stand near the fence or even get in the car, and we didn't agree that hurting me was okay -- then it was morning, light coming through blinds that are never fully drawn, nothing but the whir of fans in the background and the echo of my curses.
This is where a special effects team would've added tears, but I had beat them to it.
Fade.
