Holding the gun to your head, I leaned forward - just close enough that I could smell your aftershave and hear your slow, deliberate breathing. My finger tightened around the trigger and I whispered: "This is for all the times that I tried to tell you. This is for when you broke my heart. Drive faster."
You drove faster.
When the sun began to rise and the stars began to fade I made you pull over. Keeping the gun pressed firmly to your temple, I kissed you one last time. I could taste the fear on your tongue. "This is for when you broke my heart."
photo credit - christophe kutner
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