They Drank Their Drinks

They drank drinks filled with alcoholic dreams, every guzzle making their weary heads disconnect from beaten hearts. With tabs paid and immediate plans made, the never-was couple collapsed into the year-old Yaris, his knees scraping the never-cleaned dash, her palm swiping the grimy rearview. Chemical dependencies cradled emotionally dependent hopes. Flying through an intersection that was more red than yellow-lit. A single-decker bus T-boned their car with the vengeance of an always-there ghost. They clutched nicotine-stained knuckles. His eyes met hers. To die by your side, what a permanent way to die.