Life has a nasty habit of disappearing

So I accepted the car ride. Even though I knew he had been drinking. After all, I could taste the sour liquor on his breath as I kissed him. As he shoved his slimy tongue down my throat, so deep I thought it would lick my heart. But I didn’t care. I knew I should, but I had wanted this for so long. Imagined him, imagined this. So I got in the car. And I watched, with a quiet combination of interest and fear as we careened towards the pole, the icy road slipping out from under our desperate wheels.