Stone pines. Tall, rich stone pines. Why now? Because they were passing by; no, actually she was passing by. Stone pines. On both sides of the road. What lay behind those? Grass and other trees of course but who cares? She could only see stone pines. They’re the only ones she could name. The rest of them are just trees.

Why are some journeys always so endless? Why can’t they be like those rides which make you feel went forever? The eternal sunshine of her mind now covered by translucent sunroof only worsened her dazed senses.

“Sweet Caroline, good times never seemed so good”

The chauffeur sang along with the radio, peeking through the rear view mirror. The hair was swaying all over her face, courtesy of the open window. She might’ve smiled at him, who knows? He cared though. She didn’t. The AC was on, why the hell does she need an open window?

“Ma’am, why’s the window open?” He muttered.

“To let some air out” she said, pushing that old, charred photo inside the book. We all have those pictures, don’t we? Some hidden, some destroyed, some discarded; if only memories were pictures.

“But there’s a lot of air coming in.” He retorted.

“Yeah. For that too.”

20 thoughts on “Air.

      1. Yes.. The photograph, the air.. Something. I read yours right after I published my post since u were the first one to like my post.


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