The Cynic

He touched the little box in his pocket and smiled as he continued to walk to his car.Thoughts quickly filled up and swirled around his head of their earlier encounter that day. He had told her he was going to give her a box after the show, in which he was to play. It was hard to concentrate on anything but the box, but then again, all he could think about was her. She was like a drug to him. Slightly shorter than him by 4 or 5 inches, with dark hair coming to rest at the small of her back, glossy green eyes, and a smile that could turn any heart to mush. He pulled the box from his pocket, it was a velvet blue box with a gold letter "Q" embroidered on the top. On the underside was some smudged writing that he could not decipher, must have been from his sweaty palms. He shook the box to see if anything rattled, and to his happiness, there was only silence. He thought of her opening it, after all, boxes always held the best kinds of secrets. He kicked the thought out of his mind, however after realizing what he had told her. He didn't want to try to imagine what she would do, it would ruin it. He wanted to see her face beaming, just as his was when he saw her. Beaming with excitement and surprise. Just reciting her name in his head made it seem like the whole world came to a complete halt, and everyone waited for him to make a move. He sighed at this thought and a smirk leaked out of the side of his mouth.

She was the most beautiful girl that had ever lived, in his mind. No, that ever lived. He didn't understand why anyone else didn't realize this, but he was glad no one did. She was all his. Jealous? A bit, but he loved her and that was all that mattered. He walked out to his car and, wasn't surprised to see her waiting in there for him. She looked absolutely gorgeous. Her hair was straightened just the way he liked it, she was wearing one of the band shirts he had given her from his band, and she looked simply amazing in the skinny jeans and belt he had bought her for her birthday. He opened the door quickly, stepped in, and they kissed. He felt the world stop again, only this time, everyone waited for them to make a move. He pulled the box out of his pocket, smiling, and looking at her. He gazed into her eyes for what seemed like an eternity when he ripped his gaze from her to put the box in the cup holder. It always hurt to do that, he felt like he was murdering thousands of small infants in some third world country by just taring his gaze from hers.. He slammed the key into the ignition, rotated it, the engine turned over, and then the car jerked to life. They were on the highway in an instant.

She had fallen asleep by now, it always wore her out riding this far to his concerts, she had probably been out for about 45 minutes, but they were in the city now, so it wouldn't be long until they were there. He reached over to grab his sunglasses, successfully dropping them on the floor. With a disgusted sigh he leaned over to pick them up alerting him to a problem. He was in the middle of the intersection on a green light, but why was there a car still coming? Don't they have a red light? Don't they have to stop? Millions of thoughts popped into his head along these lines at this moment. He tried to remember if Driver's Education had ever taught you about how to deal with this situation, but what did it ever teach you that you didn't learn from your parents. He jerked his body back upright and flung the steering wheel to the left; in a knee jerk reaction hoping to keep him, but mostly her, out of harms way.

Before his car could swerve left, it happened. In a loud crack, the two cars conjoined, in a heap of twisted metal, glass shards, and soon to be melted plastic. This impact sent his car skidding, and soon flipping as it caught on the curb. The car began to preform its "acrobatic" routine which flung him from his seat, as he wasn't wearing his seat belt, until it finally came to rest in the crosswalk. After several seconds flew by, he picked himself up off the ground, hobbled over the the twisted metal pile on his broken leg(or so he would soon find out), and fell to the ground looking in the drivers side window of the over turned vehicle. He hadn't even had time to notice the pain in his arm, or the blood dripping from his forehead. All he cared about was her. He called out her name several times. After that proved worthless, he began screaming her name. No response. He grabbed his head in anger and began shouting profanity at this unknown god he heard everyone talk about, that's all he could think to blame.

The police and paramedics soon arrived on the scene. By this time, he was kneeling on the ground by the drivers side window, emotionless, staring blankly at the car. The EMT mumbled something incoherent to him, and he nodded as they picked him up. His face was stained from where blood and tears had met to make a rivulet down his face. His leg throbbed with pain every time his heart beat. His fingers hurt from being flung onto the sidewalk. None of this mattered though, she was gone. As they carried him away, he stared blankly at the surroundings, wondering if he'd live, how he'd live, or if he should live. He turned his head slightly and his gaze met, the little box with a "Q" on top.