Road Trip
And if a double-decker bus crashes into us
To die by your side is such a heavenly way to die
And if a ten-tonne truck kills the both of us
To die by your side, well, the pleasure, the privilege is mine
Morrissey’s voice blasted from the old speaker of the car. Everyone in the car was singing along to the song, and by everyone, I was talking about her and me.
There were only two of us. Two of us and an almost empty highway.
“Do you consider dying by my side to be a heavenly way to die?” asked her breaking the noisy silence in the car.
“That depends,” I answered.
“Depends on what?”
“On how we die. I’m sure having a masked psychopath slowly mutilating us while we are holding hands won’t be a pleasant experience.”
“Then, what kind of demise will you consider as a heavenly way to die next to me?”
“Hmm … that’s hard. I would prefer something that doesn’t involve too much pain though.”
“So, dying of old age together would be our heavenly way to die for you?”
“Hey hold on, we just started officially dating yesterday, don’t plan too far ahea … OUCH! What was that for?”
“Meanie!”
“Hahaha, I was just joking, besides I’d rather think about a heavenly way to live with you right now.”
“And have you found the answers for that?”
“Look at me, and then close your eyes.”
“What do…”
“Just do it.”
She closed her eyes. I leaned my head, getting it close to her face.
Then, in a moment that feels like a hundred years, we kissed.
The speedometer was pointing to 100km/h, and the highway was almost empty.
Almost.
