Reverie

2010-04-14

He pulled up to the traffic leaning in front of him and came to a stop. His gaze wandered in circles; his mind was stuck in a purple haze. He twisted the dial gently to soften the radio’s command of the local air supply.

His eyes traveled and eventually settled on her. She couldn’t see him; a reflection of a reflection in time. She was talking to herself, or maybe the radio or perhaps a stranger on the phone. Other than that, she was alone. She seemed to be chuckling and then rose into generous laughter. That, however, was short lived as she was soon raging against her dashboard.

Through it all, he remained fixated on her form. Her hair went from brown to black to a deep red. It was long, short, or something in between. He could see her unseeing eyes; they penetrated him in kind. He imagined the sound of her voice. He could sense her smell. He was stuck in the reverie of a memory of she.

Horns blasted and shook him from his conscious desires and unquenched fires. Her car was long gone, and soon so would he be.