Spirited

The Fabulous Facade

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The terrifying moment was over.

I gave this guy a look of complete confusion. "Did you just say that your name was Sore?"

Yes, I had to resist the urge to bust out laughing.

He gave me an irritated look. "For your information, Ms. Dash, it's spelled S. O. A. R. Like soaring through the air."

I threw my hands up in surrender. "Alright, alright, no need to get touchy." Yeah, maybe don't aggravate the stranger who's got you locked in his car. "Look, I really need to get somewhere, and I don't have time to go with you to your house. At least ask me out first!"

"You can't POSSIBLY have something more important going on than your life-threatening injury."

I quirked a sarcastic eyebrow.

"Okay, fine, maybe not life-threatening, but you still need medical attention, and you won't let me take you to the hospital. Trust me, I'm the next best thing, and I have all these fancy medical-"

I leaned over the center console and grabbed this kid's shirt, yanking his face to mine. I put on my most fearsome scowl. "Listen, buster, I got no trust in you, AND I got no problems fighting you off if you pull some shady business. Got it?"

To my utmost surprise, he looked totally unimpressed. My expressions were usually always enough to intimidate Applejack into giving me the Forkknife win, so I was shocked to the greatest degree.

"You're not that threatening when you're huddled under an oversized jacket, stuffing yourself with pickle chips from my glove compartment, for your information."

I not-so-ceremoniously dropped the Mr. Pickle's Chips bag on the floor. "Blame yourself. Who stocks their car with this trash anyway?"

He sighed, sounding awfully like a displeased Rarity. "Ok, I'm sorry if I'm coming off pushy, but I'm worried. These kinds of injuries are not ones to take lightly. At least give me the benefit of the doubt here."

My throbbing leg finally gave me some perspective, and I backed down. "Fine, just take me to your home."

We drove along in uncomfortable silence, subconsciously leaning as far away as possible from each other. The roads were icy, so Soar had to drive carefully. Pro: we lessened the risk of dying miserably in a car crash. Con: one second longer in this awful car with him. How is it that within ten minutes of meeting for the first time, the air between us was as jagged as a rock?

Desperate to ignore the chasm of sound that grew between us, I turned my attentions to the winter vista that whirled past.

I couldn't really make out the houses that were all blending together in the blizzard's harsh winds, but the neighborhood's vague unfamiliarity wasn't entirely unpleasant. Beneath trees dusted in snow-tipped glimmer and roads being rapidly defiled by icy sheets, the prim nature of the area was obvious. Every bush trimmed to perfection, so much so that even as snowflakes settled on them the outline was unmistakably tailored to the shape of the leaf. No bumps or potholes were nestled in the faithful roadways, and the snow spread evenly across roads, paths, and lawns.

And as we cruised along, the houses also multiplied in size like a set of matryoshka dolls, their dark forms standing erect in the arriving hours of the night. Antique yet charming streetlights winked into existence, their gentle white glow seemingly absorbed by the snowy environment. Distance grew between each mailbox until it felt like homes were miles apart, and fences began to snake greedily around each of the properties lining the perfectly straight-edged streets. I unironically felt like I was watching the unfolding of the American dream before my very eyes.