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Description
Saturday night.

I sighed as the fresh air reached my lungs.  Behind me came the rumble of eighteen-wheelers.  Their idling like the growl of sleeping giants.  I waved to a couple of the drivers I'd waited on that night.  Sometimes to make a truck drivers night, it just takes a kind smile.  At least that's what I believed.

My week was nearly coming to an end.  I'd been working since Wednesday and I was ready for it to be over.  I hobbled down to my car, the limp in my left knee apparent from a torn ACL.  My ankle was sore as well for compensating for my knee.

Like a waking dream, the black Ford Escort ZX2 was at the end of the parking lot, waiting for me to return like a Prince waiting on his Princess.  Unlocking the door, I opened it and slowly got in.  My feet, sore from standing, were grateful for the reprieve.  Starting my car, I turned on the radio.  Club KISS was on a local channel so I didn't even bother hooking up my iPod.

I left the parking lot, dancing a little to the reggae they were playing.  I made a left turn that took me up passed the bowling alley where I'd gone so many times before.  I saw a White Ford Taurus in the parking lot and my breath caught a little.

I missed the owner of that Taurus.  The Irish boy with countless freckles and eyes that couldn't decide between green and blue.  The man who went out of his way to make me laugh and see me smile on bad days.  My heart ached.  Sure it's been since February, the last time I'd seen him and we didn't end too ... well.  But I still missed him.  I missed his smile and his laugh.  The way his hand fit in mine.  I missed the way our voices fit together singing James Otto's "I just got started lovin' you" as we rode to work together.

I shook my head and kept driving.  Tears playing behind my lashes.

Y'know, it probably wouldn't hurt to stop and say 'hi' to Joe.

A little voice said in the back of my head.  My foot stayed on the gas peddle, still driving.  Singing along to the music on the radio.

What would they have to say?  You want to see him, make sure he's okay.  I know how much you've missed him.

The little voice kept saying.

It's not too late to turn around.  Why don't you turn around?

I turned up the radio and pushed my Ford forward.

Description
Saturday night.

I sighed as the fresh air reached my lungs.  Behind me came the rumble of eighteen-wheelers.  Their idling like the growl of sleeping giants.  I waved to a couple of the drivers I'd waited on that night.  Sometimes to make a truck drivers night, it just takes a kind smile.  At least that's what I believed.

My week was nearly coming to an end.  I'd been working since Wednesday and I was ready for it to be over.  I hobbled down to my car, the limp in my left knee apparent from a torn ACL.  My ankle was sore as well for compensating for my knee.

Like a waking dream, the black Ford Escort ZX2 was at the end of the parking lot, waiting for me to return like a Prince waiting on his Princess.  Unlocking the door, I opened it and slowly got in.  My feet, sore from standing, were grateful for the reprieve.  Starting my car, I turned on the radio.  Club KISS was on a local channel so I didn't even bother hooking up my iPod.

I left the parking lot, dancing a little to the reggae they were playing.  I made a left turn that took me up passed the bowling alley where I'd gone so many times before.  I saw a White Ford Taurus in the parking lot and my breath caught a little.

I missed the owner of that Taurus.  The Irish boy with countless freckles and eyes that couldn't decide between green and blue.  The man who went out of his way to make me laugh and see me smile on bad days.  My heart ached.  Sure it's been since February, the last time I'd seen him and we didn't end too ... well.  But I still missed him.  I missed his smile and his laugh.  The way his hand fit in mine.  I missed the way our voices fit together singing James Otto's "I just got started lovin' you" as we rode to work together.

I shook my head and kept driving.  Tears playing behind my lashes.

Y'know, it probably wouldn't hurt to stop and say 'hi' to Joe.

A little voice said in the back of my head.  My foot stayed on the gas peddle, still driving.  Singing along to the music on the radio.

What would they have to say?  You want to see him, make sure he's okay.  I know how much you've missed him.

The little voice kept saying.

It's not too late to turn around.  Why don't you turn around?

I turned up the radio and pushed my Ford forward.