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The Monotone Crash
The night was growing more deafeningly silent as minutes slowly clicked on the fading digital clock in the used, rusted Cougar. The pair sat, trying to saturate each other's presence as much as they could without the other noticing. The scenario was commonplace, routine, stale. Neither would say a word till the final moments of their socially forbidden time together. In that aspect, tonight would be no different.
The cold night air swept through the cracked window and sent chills like invisible fingers, raking down their backs. Instinctively he closed it, opened it again to smoke. She closed her eyes. It would begin.
Before she knew it they were both shouting; screaming insults and obscenities like salvos artillery aimed at each other's fragile minds. In the tiny vehicle their voices seemed to ring louder and louder till it was difficult to hear what words they were saying; the only thing that they were sure of was, "I'm right. I'm the victim." All the tension in the world was once again placed on his shoulders like the weight of the world on hers. He tried to balance it, but slowly, he watched it crumble.
The monotonous beeping of an alarm disrupted the shouting. It stopped, and they stayed silent once again while he turned on the car. The creaks and groans disrupted the silence as they inched forward into the night. The hum of the engine faded into the screeching in his head of the sound of her world falling to pieces; the crash of metal and glass making contact with oncoming traffic followed.
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