. With no conscious thought, he went out for a drive......
He walked to his apartment, the same way he drived. Alone. As he walked to the cover of the stairway proper, rain began to fall upon his balding head.......
With no conscious thought at all, he went out for a drive.
It felt good to be out on the highway alone, the rythym of the road slap rap tapping as his tires ate up the pavement, his mind playing with the intricate synchronicity of all the drivers around, the dance of cars, the step of a ballet.
Also, without conscious thought, he found himself thinking of her, the one that drove him mad, the slap tap tapping of his mind rode out the singing of the road, the seldom raindrops adding a staccato drumbeat to the undercurrent of the symphony behind, the dust of a thousand years and the ashes of a thousand dying dreams slid off like as if shingles, to disappear into the fading night dying, the only light in the darkness, his eyes flashing in the starlight of the rear view mirror, marking the passing and the thought.
He knew what she was, no, he got to know WHO she was, hopes and dreams and thoughts never uttered to another man. How she taught him things no woman ever had, or even could. For she was his friend, and that was forever. Nay, beyond forever.
He didn't see or even feel the two tears that slowly coursed down his cheeks; he felt the crying of a thousand more inside.
Sometimes, forever dies.
He walked to his apartment the same way he drove. Alone. As he almost reached the cover of the stairway, raindrops began to fall on his balding head.......