Cap.

Oh yeah! Sarah and I are tight with him.

(Random Old Story that was on a different post but somehow messed up) 

 

Staring out the window of that broken down truck, I tried to focus on the flashes of trees streaming past. Quickly the streaks of green became fewer and far between as the horizon opened up to reveal a unruffled scene. I quickly rolled down the window, my arm muscles rippling as I struggled with the clunky, hand crank. Success. I rested my elbow on the window sill with a sigh, the salty air blowing through my purple-streaked hair. I was home. This was peace. Instinctively my own salt tears began to form, imitating the salt water just outside of my grasp. I reached out my hand and let the wind push against it. I was going back, leaving behind all that I knew. I tried to ignore my mother in the driver’s seat, pretending that the mix of the music and the roaring wind was too loud in my pierced ears. My stomach turned as we ascended the bridge. Not that it mattered much with how I was already feeling. No matter how hard I tried to convince myself that I was fine without you, that I didn’t want you, that I didn’t need you- the thoughts come flooding back. Thoughts of your crooked smile, the way you throw your head back when laughing at how lame I am, your favorite song on the radio. That’s how it happened this time. Your song came on. Our song. That song you used to chase me around singing. The one I always told you I hated. I have a secret confession: I love that song and I love the twang in your voice as your true country soul came out with those lyrics. Oh how I miss your farmer’s tan and those pretty blue eyes. I refocus my attention on the gulf to my right. The low tide is the same color as your eyes. Sighing again, I reposition myself in the seat. My cell phone rests between my legs. Summoning all of my courage, I decide to go for it. I slide the top open and my fingers dance over the keys. Closing my eyes, I hit send. I slid back in the sun-cracked leather, letting the seat and the belt engulf me as my knees hit the dashboard. This was going to be a long summer.