We rode together into the night. A pair of very fast blurs: one is colored red, the other is white. Weaving through traffic, racing together towards an unseen goal.
I glanced at her while keeping my line. I couldn't help but smile. She was my queen. My Undefeated of the Highways. She was my partner. She complemented who I was on the speedways. She was simple yet sophisticated and she knew it.
Then came something unexpected. Another car appeared. Challenging us. No, inviting my partner and challenging me. I did my best to keep up and almost crashed into a truck in the process. To my surprise, she was already racing with the challenger and didn't even bother to look back to see if I was alright.
With the eyes of a wounded wolf, I raced after them, caught up and regained my place. I was able to defeat my rival. Good times followed but it was soon cut short.
Again, with much less surprise - and much to my dismay, my queen raced ahead of me, trying to catch a group that she spotted from afar. She left me eating her dust. It was as if she's saying that I'm no longer needed or even wanted.
So I took my cue and raced as well, showing her that I can stand alone. And just as I was about to pass her, she crashed. Questions rang inside my head: Should I stop for her? Should I even look back? Did she stop or look back at me when I almost met a similar fate? The answer to all these was a resounding NO.
I raced on, pursuing dreams that I knew from that moment on are mine and mine alone. I didn't look back. Entering a corner, I slid my crimson ride. Setting it for a straight exit, I suddenly had the urge to take a look at what I left behind.
There she was, crying. And then a car or two decided to stop by her and help. Seeing this, I knew she would be alright - she's finally found what she was looking for. And with that, I continued racing into the night - alone.
* Just letting out some pent up literary frustrations.
