FAST CARS

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Mona is annoyed, she probably thinks I'm playing the damsel in distress to steal more attention from Brad, but the truth is I'm scared like one is afraid of drowning or frightened of snakes

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Mona is annoyed, she probably thinks I'm playing the damsel in distress to steal more attention from Brad, but the truth is I'm scared like one is afraid of drowning or frightened of snakes.

I guess they believe me now. After ten minutes of debate, I got in the car, but what followed freaked both of them out.

Brad had not even started the engine that my hair dripped with sweat as though they had fished me out of a well. I caressed the door handle as he drove to reassure myself while the feeling of being trapped closed in on me.

Thank goodness Brad used his smart lock; otherwise, I would have thrown myself out. Brad speeded up; it's obvious he didn't do it intentionally or to impress me.

I know how Brad feels when he drives because I used to feel that way.

My car was my getaway; the sensation of invincibility while driving was natural. For a woman, I had great reflexes. With a bit of training, someone could have cast me for the Tokyo drift remake.

That's how brilliant I was.

I loved the speed, shifting gears, the sound of the roaring engine, the adrenaline it produced was fabulous, and when I was high, it was even better. I cruised and touched the sky.

One of my all-time favorite songs was Tracy Chapman's Fast Car; I lived the lyrics, which represented freedom in the purest of forms.

Wild and careless is the word to define how I was at the wheel. Not only was I a reckless driver, but civility won't my forte.

Parking sideways or on restricted areas that Jane didn't give a shit about anything or anyone, I would use my horns excessively and my middle finger, well, it blew like a candle in the wind every three seconds.

That was then, and now, Brad has to pull up to let me out to vomit.

I sit on the sidewalk next to him while Mona goes across the street to buy water at a G20.

The roads are wide here, like in the States, and nobody wastes time when crossing. Everyone always in a hurry here in the institutional 빨리빨리 [palri palri=quick quick] mode and so are the cars, with drivers who are also quick to get angry at the lingering pedestrian.

These broad streets like highways provide the tracks you desire for speeding. One can quickly be tempted in the silence of the night to rip roar through the city as though the streets were a red carpet for them to strut on.

Goddamnit Jane.

I hate when I have thoughts like that and where my mind tries to divert the responsibility. The streets are too broad; the car was too powerful; the night was too dark.

My mind sometimes seeks subterfuges, I guess it's a defense mechanism supposed to help me cope, but it doesn't because the facts are there, and these petty thoughts can't contain the guilt.

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