Traffic Jam

Red.

Leo gripped the steering wheel tightly with his left hand, his fingers constantly moving to the beat of the radio music. His right hand was resting hesitantly on the gear, his sweaty palm swirling around the shiny, gray ball. He caught one second to do a quick-hair-brush-up-and-sideway-flip styling, and then he immediately turned his eyes on the windshield. Tiny balls of clear heaven-water were now already starting to splatter on the clear glass. As the splashing droplets crash upon the car, they cast shadows upon the white, smooth face of the girl sitting in the passenger seat. She rested calmly on the leather seat, her oval head lying softly, her jet black hair flowing like black water against the bright pink pillow. Her shut eyes started opening like a bud of flower starting to bloom. Rachel had awaken.

Leo—amazed at the figure he was looking at—gulped. He quickly looked away from Rachel, trying to avoid any eye contact. As he wishfully visualizes in his mind the angelic, breathtaking, exquisite face of the girl he was previously staring at, he can’t help but give a breezy (and loud) sigh. From his face emerged tiny droplets of sweat, his mouth was starting to dry up, his lips refused to open up, his tongue stiffened. Suddenly, he was breathless.

He wanted to speak out, tell her everything he wanted to say, everything he has kept for the past three years, everything he felt—his deepest longing for her. He has already grown tired of the late-night-talks about her boyfriends, her friendly kiss-on-the-cheeks, and her comforting pats-on-the-back . He just wanted to simply place his hands on her white, silky cheeks, run them on her soft, majestic hair, and hold her perfect body close to his. He slightly turned sideways, his head brought closer to hers, his eyes staring still at the girl in front of her. He was ready to finally tell her everything.

Green.