Bronzed legs reclined against the worn black leather dash of his old grey Cadillac. Skin, slightly irritated by the calefaction radiating from the sultry desert sun as it penetrates and coos through the windshield. And for reasons unknown a deathly but consoling silence fell between us a few miles ago. Even now as “our” song commences, the air is thick with unwarranted strain. But those dawning velvety guitar riffs manage to rupture that enveloping tension. I turn to my right and watch with squinted eyes as fiery waves of crimson and tangerine waltz away from dirt. We are alone with only golden sand and camouflaging shrubbery for company and off in the distance, dark majestic mountains frame the horizon, inveigling us from the beyond; from reality.
I roll down the rigid window, permitting balmy air to stroke my face while sending liberated strands of hair towards him. From the corners of my green eyes I watch as he drives in reticence, fixated on the perpendicular stretch of road to nothingness. He drums his fingers against the steering wheel and I watch as tattooed arms flex in tune, never missing a beat. He senses my gawking and peers back to me, catching my gaze while perfectly mirroring my look of adoration. Too proud, I refrain from completely cocking my head in his direction and continue examining the uninhabitable land that whirls in circulation. And as the fourth verse kicks in I find myself singing along, feeling those words as he reaches over and rests a reassuring palm on my knee.