July 19, 2013

Fiction Friday: What's Left of Us

Sequel to this

Her eyes are glued to the scenery ahead as we rush through the heart of this city. Her slender fingers tap the steering wheel as I thumb through the newspaper we bought at our last pit stop a few miles back. The headlines read that our strength as a country is rapidly dwindling and violence has taken precedence over love. This is not news to me so I fold it up and cram it into the glove box.

I halfway roll down the window and light up a cigarette, letting the rush of toxins and smoke cloud my lungs for a brief second before exhaling. She shoots me a disapproving glance so I steal a few more puffs and toss what’s left out the window. I watch as it tumbles onto the rolling ground behind us and out of sight. She smiles and averts her eyes back to the cars she is chasing after. I fiddle with the radio but fail to find a station that plays good music. Great. Now, all we have to listen to is our impenetrable silence which I have learned to be equally as deafening. 

The car slows around a dangerous curve and I make believe that it flips off the edge. I wonder if thoughts like that ever cross her mind or if I really am just the jerk she has declared me to be. I shrug it off and touch her hair but she swats it off almost instantaneously. Is this really what happens to love as it ages? I always envisioned everlasting butterflies and laughter but instead we are immersed in silence and anguish.

This vacation is built on the hope that we can rekindle a flame that has long since extinguished, and so far that hope is dwindling. She is fixated on cutting our traveling time in half rather than living in the moment with me. This is never going to work. We are hopeless. Hopeless. I mutter this word under my breath which stirs a reaction in her. Her eyes are already reeling when she asks me what can possibly be wrong now. I pretend that it is nothing because I know she won’t pry the way she once did back when she cared to know what was on my mind. I am right and she resumes her battle against the ticking clock.

We are 260 miles of our destination and a hundred more light years away from salvaging anything from this relationship. I am not even trying. She is not even trying. The lack of effort is burying us alive but still we are not kicking and screaming to be let out. We are accepting our defeat. We are cowards, afraid to fight for the love we once called our oxygen.

I am mourning our loss and she will not stop tapping her slender fingers against the steering wheel. The sound is puncturing my heart now. This is what is left of us.


  1. I couldn't really understand the meaning of all of those words you wrote but I could understand the story. I wish I can write like you. Writing a short story using those advanced words. Its just fascinating me. Keep it up :)

    1. hehe..im sorry if its confusing :p but thanks for your time to read ^^

  2. aemy... how are you. selamat berpuasa. (sorry for commenting on your beautiful story)

    1. Anne!! im fine. hehe. selamat berpuasa too ^^

  3. waaahhh..aemy,i just read this.. your story remind me of the song clarity by ZEDD. i dont know y but the song make me so sad everytime i hear it.. huuu..
    btw, nice writing. the word are so like pro novel writer.
    huuu, i should have read more.. heee


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