He gulps as he looks down the road through the dust kicked up by the wheels of her speeding car and tries to remember their first meeting. It’s clear and piercing to him as the rays of red taillights are now.

...He’s just stepped into the coffee shop and scanned the room when he sees her, angelic in the early morning sun, sitting with her back to the corner at a high top. Her feet stretched to find purchase on the rung of the chair. Her short hair rolls over her right hand like a magnificent dark wave as the hand props her head towards an open book held open by the slender form of her left hand, never far from a large steaming coffee...

As his gaze blankly follows the taillights gliding over the road leading west from the farm house a breeze begins to swirl in the grass around his feet. Then the breeze dances through his fingertips and he feels each one separately and wraps his hand around the breeze as his eyes close. Now the cool air raises the hair on his arms and he squeezes the breeze more tightly to ward off the chill. He leans into it, then keeps very still as it caresses his lips and before he can stop himself.

...She’s next to him, his left hand grips the wheel solidly amidst rough callouses and his right rests lightly on the gear shift. His eyes track each slow rise and fall of the road, each gentle curve, and he listens as the roar of the engine meshes with the applause from the crowd during Everlong from the Pantages Theatre concert. These are his favorite days, long drives seated next to her, guiding the hurtling form of the old Porsche effortlessly through every bend, their playlist over the soundsystem, and the smiling summer sun’s gentle heat. Now her cool palm rests on his right hand as her nimble fingers weave into his. A smile creeps first to his cheeks then rushes through his lips and he gently caresses her palm with the tip of his thumb. He feels the turn of her gaze and the warmth of her smile, eases the Porsche to a rest on the shoulder overlooking a low river valley, turns – first his shoulders, then his head – until their eyes meet with a spark and her’s reflect the brilliant glow of the sun. As their lips near, the current begun in their eyes travels to their lips and sensing it, he tries to hold this one worthy moment but the electricity between their lips won’t be denied...

His eyes snap open as the first rain drop explodes against his lips. Several more splash down against his cheeks and forehead and for a moment he stands still, absorbing each minute blast. He feels each one, even the fragments of broken droplets as they rebound against his skin. He looks down into the puddles formed in the palms of his upturned hands.

...Watches slow tears roll down her cheeks and break themselves on the cruel floor. For a moment he’s frozen, staring into the puddles and only notices she’s turned and started for the door when his eyes pick up the trail her tears have left behind. He raises his hand to his face to staunch his own tears and when he brings his hand away...

His upturned palms sting with salt that dissolves in the puddles of rainwater in his hands. The murky solution causes a shudder and he thinks to himself, “She was never really mine, always and only her own, but why is it the hardest things to lose are the ones that were never ours?”