Fuck. What I like most about us is the 15 year age difference, but at the same time I sometimes feel like she looks like a teenager.

We're both in my black BMW. I'm silent. I had to search for you at the police station when the police broke into the party you was at. Red eyes, hair disheveled, smelling of cheap beer and desperation. I've seen it before. The desperation you so carefully concealed behind a defiant gaze and a feigned independence.

You was silent, looking out the window, your lips pressed together. The streetlights slide across your face, highlighting the circles under your eyes. Fifteen years is a chasm we both sought to cross. I sought to glimpse into adolescence, she sought to immerse herself in adulthood. A foolish, absurd game.

Listen, I'm not mad, but... Oh... Gosh! I growled, not taking my eyes off the road. The headlights picked out a figure darting along the curb. Small, hunched over, in a bright down jacket.

I braked hard. She shuddered and finally turned to me. There was something like fright in her eyes.

"What is it?" you whispered I was silent, looking at the road. This down jacket. I've seen him before. On someone very small and very close. And the thought sent a chill down his spine.