To ye Whore of Life

Untold is the story of a mislaid girl who found herself in the backseat of a boy's car... Or was it the story of a
boy who found that mislaid girl in his car? Did he know she was there as he bobbed his head along to the scratchy low-down tune on the radio?

The car sped forward. The girl recognised the music, it was the remnant of an on-the-fritz stint. It wasn't playing on his car radio but in her head. So why was his moving? She leaned forward and realised he was laughing at something the girl in the passenger's seat said. The girl rested her hand on his as he drove on. That they were lovers, could easily be seen.

The girl in the back nestled down into a love nest of inanimates- a pair of guitars, plaid button down shirts, rubber flops, a cordbook, pieces of paper with random writings strewn everywhere and a set of tied-together crochet hooks(?!?). These- a shrine to his complexity, and the girl in front, were a draft to the life story he was starting on.

Did the girl know where the car was heading as she watched the world out the window? Probably not. Did she dare dream she would share a ride with the boy for a life time? Most certainly not! Is she glad she went along on that first drive? most def.

The scenery changed, as did the interior. We've learned to hide behind greater things than clutter (go figure). I will drive the miles with you, dear stranger. Will we drive each other crazy? I do hope so, my alienated other.