lulz

It probably says something about me that I can watch two people make out in my rearview mirror and think that’s alright.

It seemed perfectly natural at the time. I like watching the car behind me at stop lights. Especially long ones. Even bored looking old men seem interesting at long stop lights. And that one girl who stuck her head out the window to fix her hair in her side view mirror, she was a laugh. So a young couple going at it, the woman gripping the steering wheel with one hand and the man running his hands all through her hair and messing up her ponytail? High comedy.

I wonder what people think when they see me driving around, jaw shut tight because I don’t sing unless there’s someone to annoy. Both hands on the wheel, right where they teach you to put them, because I don’t throw them up and dance unless there’s someone screaming, the WHEEL, woman, what are you doing? I don’t even change the radio station unless I’m stopped, or talk on the phone, or text, god forbid.

I joke about running people down with my car when there are people around to giggle because they know I’d never do it. When I’m alone, I think about it seriously.

Because it would be so easy.

A family walking by, a man and a woman and two darling children, on the sidewalk to set a good example. Going to the park, maybe. Or a woman out jogging, tiny shorts and camisole and pained expression. Or my neighbor, walking to the bus stop so his daughter can take the car. Their day could end so quickly, so easily.

In a car, you’re in your own little world. Your own little box. You feel like no one can see you. Not the other cars, not the family and the woman and the neighbor. You’re safe. But one little twitch of the wrist and you can murder someone and then drive off and it would be so easy. Just as easy as fixing your hair, just as easy as stealing a quick kiss.

Because who’s going to see you?