Disquiet Teen

"Lights," the teen called out.  "Headlights!"

"Headlights," Thomas repeated.  He reached down and turned them on.  It seemed to illuminate little besides the falling rain.  There were familiar street signs and blurs of various stores that Tom was known to frequent.  It was his neighborhood and he was driving in autopilot - steering from the seat of his subconscious.

Bleak lines in the road and heavy raindrops on the windshield merged into a New York memory of sitting in the back of the cab - watching life pass by on the sidewalk.  All these people were going somewhere and someone would cry if they died.

But then there was a huge flash - not in New York - but right there in crappy Carmichael, California.  Did lightening strike?  Was there something on the horizon?  The lights flashed and flamed, there was a swirl of color and then water smearing the front window.  Flashes of yellow.  Flashes of youth.  Rain coats and white lips; young eyes in the road had appeared, panicked, and abruptly disappeared.  The teen within laughed and they continued to drive into the night.

Two blocks up, there was a stop light and a car slowed down next to his, but the other car wasn't concerned with him at all.  Everything was fine except the sky was completely dark and the air completely still.  The rain continued to attack.  The traffic light turned green and he drove on, it seemed that no one cared for God had not said a word.

But for the swirling confusion and blond hair caught in the wiper, it was a decent evening.  Until his beer was empty and he threw the bottle into the back seat.





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