Emma

I tried to hold Emma’s hand, but I couldn’t reach it. Her hands were clutching at the steering wheel too tight; her eyes were too focused on the road that she did not notice me, sitting on the passenger seat. I called out to her, told her I love her, but the stereo was blasting out too loud that I could not even hear myself talking. I opened the car’s door and jumped off, rolled towards the gutter of the jagged road. Bruised and helpless, I waited for her to turn around and pick me up.

I’m still waiting.