I realized on the ride home that the best thing I can have is the ability to feel these people breathing beside me
one has the more relaxed, laid back breaths, elbows calmly placed on her knees
another’s elbows are there as well but hands pulled in tight, air in and out of lungs at an oh-so-slightly faster pace (and just as I’m writing this he had two rather uncharacteristic outbursts, one of “YESSS!” and another of some obscure song I don’t remember ever knowing)
and as the three of us are riding back to the apartment, the sun is lowering itself on the horizon and I want to ask if they are okay.
I want to ask if he’s being silent simply for the sake of being silent
I want to ask if there’s a reason her palms are pressed into her eyes and her fingers are tapping at her scalp,
or if it’s just because our driver happens to be more on the reckless side.
there’s a quietness in the atmosphere even though every square centimeter around us is perpetuated by noise,
so I’m relieved when we all make the same noise of disgust as we pass the fish market a few miles from home
even though all the while my feet are braced against the floor and my nails are digging into my wrist.
I’ve found that my free writes often involve nameless characters. Who knows why.