Leather and Light
I sat next to her in the car.
The plastic container rested on my thighs,
in a way that made it hard to hold
without shifting.
The sky was cloudless.
The light fell straight into my face.
I could have turned away,
but I didn’t.
I ate a piece of the pizza.
The base was soft,
it gave way
before I really had to bite.
“Do you want a piece?”
She shook her head
without looking at me.
She kept singing,
as if the question hadn’t been asked.
The same part of the song came on again.
I waited for it to continue,
but it started over.
I wasn’t sure
if she was restarting it
or if I was just hearing it wrong.
The heat in the car increased.
The leather beneath me was warm,
and I had the impression
that it was slowly adjusting,
not just to my posture.
I kept eating,
even though I didn’t want to anymore.
When we stopped,
she opened the door immediately.
I stayed seated,
without a reason.
Outside, it was bright.
Too bright
to make anything out at first.
I could still hear the song,
even though the door was already open.
I tried to sing along,
missed the cue,
and had the impression
that it shifted slightly each time.
Samu
One gets an idea of this woman, your patience, your humanity. And it makes me wonder what was in the box and where you were taking her. The support for others which you give is beautiful! Fondlfy, Michael
It reminds me of moments of internal discomfort because of the cyclone running inside my head coupled with a complex and difficult relationship with a significant female figure in one’s life who the protagonist (you) is close to. However, there is a lot of emotional baggage associated with being in the presence of this person. I could not figure out if it was the warmth of the leather of the upholstery of the car or was it the strange discomfort of feeling pleather. You have a gift, it is precious.