Hot leather embraced me and stuck to my thighs, my world rumbled and I glided forward in a smooth motion. I pressed down on the brake and looked in the rear view mirror, surrounded by dark cars caught up in my wake. The feel of someone’s eyes on my profile made me still, I dared not look around to see who was seeing. The glare of red lights reflected in my eyes and in the chrome, giving my right foot its so-called will.

The glare of red translated into a flash, then a shimmer, then a shine: watching the slender red car pull before me, I felt its perfection and it beckoned my burn. Its red lights matched its lipstick shine, as the green arrow signaled a turn.

I pulled myself to the left lane as Red swung to the right, and much to my anticipation, our slowing matched, and we pushed our brakes in unison, stopping together at white. I turned my head slowly and glanced Red’s way, and yes, lives of love were infused in the very sight.

Now Red was more, not just a shine, but a face. He didn’t look back but I was convinced I knew him, so I knew why. He could simply feel everything outside of his black shaded eyes. Promptly our relationship built its many layers as we drove along side by side. In seconds our fates were entwined and fused: a lifelong contained in the ride.

I flung my hair back to entice him. He was concentrated and looking his best. He sped up in front of me in the left lane as we approached another stop. For a moment I flinched, as I became overcome with a desire to slam the gas pedal to the floor. Red and The Face had made me so full, with my attempts to suppress it, I could not longer endure. I powerlessly acted on that slamming urge.

Speedy rush – and the shattering metal noises ripping, my love’s rubber tires squealed. He squealed into the middle of the intersection, and for a moment I thought he would be demolished by the many approaching sets of wheels. But the commotion of the cars settled, and at last my love emerged from his car. His face turned colors and his forehead contorted. His eyebrows scrunched. The damage to his bumper was only a few small scratches.

I remained in my car and watched him before me, dreamily, my eyes filled with tears. After all my waiting, he approached, walked up to my window and knocked as I stared.

“I love you,” I said to him, turning blue.

“I love you too,” he said behind the glass; I watched his lips move.

I closed my eyes and leaned in toward the glass, in order to kiss him through the window. It was only when I reopened my eyes as the cold glass touched me; I realized he was no longer there. He had not been there at all.

I turned to look forward, the still silence stabbed me through, and before me in the street were Red and The Face. The mangle of metal lay in the middle of the intersection, crushed and bent; how I had missed it. Red itself seemed to be turning to liquid, which streamed from the driver’s side door like ribbon.