He sat in the truck parked on the gravel drive, his arm hanging out the window, a cigarette dangling from his finger. The radio was on and Bon Jovi's Bed of Roses was blaring.

She watched him from the behind the closed screen door.

He lowered the visor so she wouldn't be able to see his reddened eyes. Def Lepard's Pour Some Sugar On Me came on next, and he tweaked the volume nob. He could tell she was still looking at him.

He finished his cigarette and flicked it out the window. He took a long drink from the tallboy, and put it back between his knees. The announcer came back on and said they had one more song until the 80s lunch hour was over.

The guitar riff came in slowly, and then built up gradually. She wasn't in the doorway anymore. He lit another cigarette, finished his beer, and turned the radio off.

He remained sitting in the truck in silence.


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CraigTowsley (joined about 13 years ago)
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I think this site is like a power juicer to the armadillo-skinned oranges of writer's block.

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