The car’s door opens briskly. She slides her legs in the passenger seat next to me. Her short navy skirt contrasts her thin white legs. My eyes wander around her fair skin to her calf high boots. Black boots. Certainly not cow leather, perhaps lamb. The car door slams shut, I push the pedal. Haven’t looked her in the eye yet. My left arm loosely on the steering wheel; the other on my thigh. My finger tips on the jeans fabric of my pants.

Red light on the road. I turn my eye towards her. She hasn’t noticed; she’s looking out the car window. Her head humming slightly to the car’s melancholic dance music. “The Color Violet” by Tory Lanez. Volume 24. This time of night she should be seeing my reflection in the window. But she’s looking straight through me at the deserted car lanes. There’s a lonely carefully planted tree at the end. Nature’s interesting. I lift my eyes from the tree to her boobs. They’re nice. Not too big, not too small and full of volume. Then her pitch-black hair. If you’d see her haircut from behind, you’d think she was a boy.

Green light. I push the pedal higher than intended. I slow it down. The light touch of her hand on my forearm makes me startle; I look into her dark brown eyes. Thin nose.
‘No, I like fast’.
She’s pleading with her eyes and nods at the highway ahead of us.

I feel that blood pumping, and push in the pedal. The car pulls up. Should I continue? My eyes turn towards her. She’s looking at the road ahead and there’s a big smile on her face. The gas pedal. My heart is pounding. Is this lunacy? I push it harder. Her smile fills her whole face. Her mouth opens. Speed it up, James, I think. This is it. I want to see her face again and grab a quick glance to the right. The highway’s auburn night light matches her gregarious smile which has reached her brown eyes. She would love it if we would crash now.

This flash fiction story was written after being inspired by the song “The Color Violet” by Tory Lanez.