We Were Young
We Were Young
A cool breeze permeates the Californian summer's night as the moon takes its sweet time passing over the lonely desert highway. The dark pavement is still warm from the blistering sun and the sound of old, worn rubber soles crunching against the tar rings louder than the dull buzz of desert nightlife.
A curious owl hoots the stranger's way, eying the female as she falls to the ground, sitting cross-legged in the middle of the road. At the disturbance, it lifts up and off of the cactus it perched upon, taking flight into the night.
Chapped lips meet the moist rim of a bottle, bitter liquid burns down a sore throat. The girl coughs, running a shaky hand through dark, unkempt hair. The scent of hard liquor is warm on her breath as she hiccups sadly, thoughts dragging her mind elsewhere. Anywhere but on the dark, lonely highway.
Her cold, lacklustre eyes settle on the incandescent moon above. The twinkling light reminds her of a pair of brighter eyes. Warm, brilliant blue ones full of life. And then a laugh. A laugh more addictive than cigarettes and liquor.
Memories flood her mind like the alcohol in her mouth. The best, happiest times of her life turned sour, bittersweet as her chest tightens, throat constricts, and the tears leak.
"Dude, are you drunk?" He'd take one look at her and know she was lying. And laugh like it was the funniest thing in the world.
"One, I'm not a dude. Two, no." She would trip over her own feet trying to get off the barstool, trying to catch up with everyone when they were starting to leave.
And he'd laugh at her even more. But stuck by her side to help her up. "Come on, twinkletoes. The bar's closing."
"Just one more round?" She would plead. "I don't think I can walk straight."
"Guess I'll just have to carry you back to your place now, won't I?" And she would squeal as his arms would wrap around her tiny frame, picking her up as if she were a feather, lugging her out of the bar.
"Who's gonna pick me up now, Jim?" The girl chokes, rubbing at her eyes furiously to stop the tears from streaming down her face.
The wind picks up, stirring the sand and rustling dead shrubs. It tangles in her hair like fingers, wraps around her body like long, slender arms; picking her reluctant body up, steadying her unsure feet. She could almost hear his voice whispering in her ear. As if he were actually there.
I'll carry you home tonight.
A curious owl hoots the stranger's way, eying the female as she falls to the ground, sitting cross-legged in the middle of the road. At the disturbance, it lifts up and off of the cactus it perched upon, taking flight into the night.
Chapped lips meet the moist rim of a bottle, bitter liquid burns down a sore throat. The girl coughs, running a shaky hand through dark, unkempt hair. The scent of hard liquor is warm on her breath as she hiccups sadly, thoughts dragging her mind elsewhere. Anywhere but on the dark, lonely highway.
Her cold, lacklustre eyes settle on the incandescent moon above. The twinkling light reminds her of a pair of brighter eyes. Warm, brilliant blue ones full of life. And then a laugh. A laugh more addictive than cigarettes and liquor.
Memories flood her mind like the alcohol in her mouth. The best, happiest times of her life turned sour, bittersweet as her chest tightens, throat constricts, and the tears leak.
"Dude, are you drunk?" He'd take one look at her and know she was lying. And laugh like it was the funniest thing in the world.
"One, I'm not a dude. Two, no." She would trip over her own feet trying to get off the barstool, trying to catch up with everyone when they were starting to leave.
And he'd laugh at her even more. But stuck by her side to help her up. "Come on, twinkletoes. The bar's closing."
"Just one more round?" She would plead. "I don't think I can walk straight."
"Guess I'll just have to carry you back to your place now, won't I?" And she would squeal as his arms would wrap around her tiny frame, picking her up as if she were a feather, lugging her out of the bar.
"Who's gonna pick me up now, Jim?" The girl chokes, rubbing at her eyes furiously to stop the tears from streaming down her face.
The wind picks up, stirring the sand and rustling dead shrubs. It tangles in her hair like fingers, wraps around her body like long, slender arms; picking her reluctant body up, steadying her unsure feet. She could almost hear his voice whispering in her ear. As if he were actually there.
I'll carry you home tonight.