Around the evening of yesterday, I drove toward the nearest Bank of America in my neighborhood to conduct a deposit. Without concentrating too much on the idea of selecting decent music to stroll along to, I immediately drove off into the night to my destination, with the window down on my side to feel the cool breeze of wind. With one hand laying upon the steering wheel and the other on my knee, I observed my surroundings, only to find a fighting couple in a car whilst en route to the bank. Even though it was a small glimpse, there was no violence; they merely conflicted in verbal shit speak, mostly indistinctly. I continued driving, looking at my mirror to witness anymore action: they turned the other way without complication. The quiet street was filled with the noise from our vehicles, yet my head was a burning rage of an ancient memory, deeply penetrating my ludicrous youth and regretfully reminiscing.
Their names were Jessica and Gabriel, because they remind me of two individuals from my past.
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