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🥊 three. trials and tribulations
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Music played loudly from the sleek, white car stereo as it traveled down the icy yet open roads in Nova Scotia. The province was covered with a blanket of snow that piled onto the bare ground and cars moved slowly on the icy roads, fear of causing an accident. Wind whipped through the road as a red, sleek Ford Mustang roared down the icy concreted and strands of brown hair traveled behind. Some old hillbilly song played as if she were coming into a new town like a cowboy. The engine roared every time she stepped down onto the gas pedal, gasoline filling her nostrils. Morana felt the sun hit the back of her head as she stared out at the relatively empty road, her fingers gripping the rubber of her steering wheel. She clenched then unclenched her fingers, a small smile fixing on her face at the feeling of the leather twisting underneath her skin. It twisted with a soft squeak then the leather untwisted and her fingers left behind marks that dug deep.
The feeling of wind brushing through her hair and her knockoff Chanel sunglasses shielded her eyes from the bright light. It was everything Morana could imagine and she wondered if heaven was like this.
An endless road to nowhere in particular with wind passing through and snow clomped up on the sides while she listened to Hotel California on her old car stereo. She imagined heaven was like the ending of some movie where the good guys won the battle and they drove off or rode their horses into the sunset. She wondered if heaven was nice too where no sickness or diseases roamed and if it really was all white. She wondered so much that it felt like her head would purely explode because of the ideas inflating her head like a balloon.
Her eyes wandered to where her white glove department was and she looked back up through her windshield. The road was beginning to thaw now, growing moist with the melted snow and her tires screeched as she parked in front of the familiar building of the bar. Little to no cars were there except for the regulars and the bartenders that worked within the somewhat large bar. How did Viktor even get enough money? Morana wasn't even sure.
The brunette reached into her purse and she slowly applied the watery yet strawberry flavored gloss to her lips that still tasted reminiscent of mint. She paused, tracing the outline of her lips to rub away the lip gloss that was smudged, and she stared at her dark eyes in the rear view mirror. Her pupils were dark, but the raccoon rings around her flesh were darker and she sighed before she looked over at her glove department.
