I posted a picture on Monday and let it sink in a bit, then wrote this. It’s under 500 words (just) and I hope you like a little end of week romance.
I usually crawled past his car around half eight in the morning, both of us as regular as clockwork, except he went one way, and I, the other. A familiar event that always took place along the same mile long stretch of road. Going by the shine on his car, I imagined his house was one of those by the park. His engine purred. Mine rattled.
Whenever I saw him, which was most days, he’d lean his elbow on the open window and drove with one hand. His lips movements synced in time to the song on my car radio.
The first time he smiled, my heartbeat slammed into my chest. I reckoned my cheeks went pink and I almost hit the car in front.
A one-off I’d assumed. Two days later, he’d slowed up and beamed that wonderful greeting. Overcoming my natural shyness took some courage: I smiled back.
That’s how it happened. Every time we passed, we slowed and if it wasn’t raining, he’d wind down the window and show me his white teeth and the light bristles on his chin. I flicked my hair out of my eyes and sat up straight.
I wore low cut tops and risked a ticket for causing an accident—he’d linger to get a view of my cleavage. My glossy lipstick turned shades redder, while my fingernails went brighter. I rested them on the top of the wheel, letting the sunlight glint off them.
He wore a fine suit. Worked in an city office. Would he care that I didn’t have much money or still lived with my father, who’s a little blind? I scrimped and saved for every one of those revealing tops I’d bought since I first saw him.
When I woke that morning, the sun had warmed the curtains and I drew them back. My dented car was there on the street waiting for me.
The traffic was worst than ever. Peering down the street, I tried to spot his car and I couldn’t see it. I’d missed him. It happened, I was a little late. I shrugged and turned on the radio. Not today then.
A car horn tooted and I noticed a dark saloon join the queue of traffic coming my way. It was his car. We cruised towards each other, almost at a snail’s pace. He smiled and pointed at his wristwatch. I laughed.
We were close enough to reach out and touch, to lean out the windows.
Now or never – what had I to lose? My palms nearly glued themselves to the steering wheel.
I braked right next to him and stuck my head through open window; my hair caught the wind. I felt a fool, but only for a second. We kissed. Such an unashamedly spontaneous moment. So unlike me.
“Hi,” he said. “I’ve been wanting to do that for a long time.”
That’s how it began. How I met the man I married.
I’ll find something for Monday. A little different. Hotter maybe 😉
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