U-Turn

I was driving along the highway, one like EDSA yet a little more organized but not any more peaceful. Perhaps I was in real hurry, there was no time to care about speed-check road cameras, and I was fast enough at 120 kph. Did I worry about time? Or about my life? Or about meeting an accident with another reckless driver? I didn’t know. Whatever was on my mind, it was certainly uncertain.

I was driving. Straight. Fast. Safe. Perhaps.

Then. A stare from a pair of small brown eyes, both quiet and playful, new and familiar, serene and loud. And maybe I smiled at them. Maybe.

I heard wheels screeching. In the right rear-view mirror, a dark gray sports car was dashing behind me. Although the highway was busy, the gray car was too much in a hurry to slow down. Was it chasing after me? Or did I even bother to care?

There. I was alone on the rooftop with this stranger, who seemed to have known me long, or too well. What was with my eyes, my neck, my hands; with my skin; with my kind of fashion? And how come I felt safe in the way this stranger brushed my hair with his fingers?

The gray car was right behind me, and then, next to me on my right. Then, at one quick steer, it veered to the left banging against my black, pushing my direction to the left and around, exactly at a U-turn slot.
All at once, my vision was a blur, my thoughts was a syntax error. That reckless driver took me on a U-turn with him, whether I wanted it or not. And now that I’m driving back to an old direction…

The next thing I know: I’m loving the way this stranger plays the guitar, the way his small brown eyes look at me, and the way he made such a little accident of driving me to a U-turn.

The next thing I’m wishing for: May the accident be meant.
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U-Turn

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