Indirect Characterization-Compulsions

He grabbed the keys, heavy with the myriad of chains she kept on the loop, from her hand and ran to the driver’s seat. He jumped up and down on the pavement with the nervous energy of a five year old.

“I’m driving.”

“My car,” Gemma replied.

“Yeah but you’re a maniac and you don’t know where you’re going.”

She rolled her eyes but didn’t say anything. They got in the car and he pulled off the coastal highway. Chase could feel the silence stretching between them. Usually he never stopped talking-she would always listen-but today the only subject that came to mind started with I love you. He felt like he was going to just hurl the words all over her. He turned on the radio to quiet the words that had become a chant in his head. He groaned when he heard a cowboy crooning about his guns and trucks.

“Don’t they ever get tired of singing about inanimate objects?”

“Don’t start with me, Reggae mahn.” She said in a horrible Jamaican accent.

He laughed. It was only one CD, but she would never let him live Sounds of the Island down. He listened to her sing along, still amazed that she always knew every note and every line; she kept the beat with her feet on the dashboard. Out of the corner of his eye he could see her curling her hair around one finger, a habit she’d had as long as he had known her. The setting sun glinted off her red-brown hair as she mechanically twirled it, let it go, and reached up to grab another piece.

Leave a Reply