She Drives.

She drives past the mailbox, trying to forget about the year past. Every red car she sees is the red car. She cranes her neck to see the driver, but it is never the right one.

She drives on, past the dark playgrounds, the ghost towns, the ice cream parlors, the empty roads to nowhere. She wants to close her eyes and stop. She wants to forget. But there is no brake pedal. She'll crash if she tries to forget.

She turns on the radio, but every song is one they sang to. Every song is one they jammed to. Every song only twists the knife in her heart.

No lyric, no poem, no story, no words can fill this void in her soul. She turns off the radio.

She cries silently, mourning the friend who never died. The friendship that began suddenly, unexpectedly, and ended the same way. The sisterhood that began between a senior in a pink poodle skirt and white ribbon in her hair and a sophomore in pink fishnet tights and bright red lipstick. The love that held the near-twins together.

The road never ends, the gas tank never empties, the radio always plays the same songs.

She drives.

-<|3-

<3 = brittany