Hidden Heartstrings

02. What Do You Mean?

02. What Do You Mean?

Just when I am starting to feel good about myself and the choices I've made so far in life, life always has a way of springing back up and messing things up for me with the intentions of bringing out my stupidity and foolishness to match my eyes.

Living with someone who you know nothing of isn't the brightest idea; ask anyone and they'll tell you just that.

What shocked me most, the duration it took for the momentary epiphany to strike me. And I currently blame myself for the low level of intelligence I have that makes it impossible for me to quickly process and analyse the situation around me.

As Kyle makes a roundabout, I see the same, majestic looking fountain that we've passed by more than we should've. A sigh escapes my lips unknowingly and I press my lips tightly together, forming a horizontal line. An unamused expression is plastered and stays stubbornly on my face, refusing to move.

The bulletproof impassive and grim expression that's somehow perpetually glued to my face is so attractive that even the birds that were flapping around and enjoying themselves in the crystal clear water fly away in such a hurry.

Blown away by my beauty, I'm positive.

It's been 2 hours and we've done nothing but talk mindlessly about random and irrelevant things.

"With that head of yours, I have no idea how you even got into college," I fold my arms and slump on the car seat.

"I guess I'm just born a genius, Chels."

Of course, maybe that's why you've interpreted the map wrongly and we've been going around the same fountain for more than two times in a row?

"Are we almost there yet?"

Impatience is something that runs in my blood; it's something passed down to me from my parents, in short: heredity. I try my best to maintain my lady-like composure like how Aunt Evelyn would want me to be, but asking me to be as cool as a cucumber in this situation is no different than asking a cow to grow a pair of angelic-like wings and fly over a rainbow.

Simply impractical, not to mention impossible.

I hate when people ask the mundane, overused sentence, "Are we there yet?", but this trip is taking a little too long than anticipated.

Taking into account Murphy's incessant and helpless cries and the duration of the trip, I don't think my ears or bum can take it any longer. To be frank, if I had to sit any longer, I'm pretty sure my bum would curve the wrong way.

"Almost but not yet," Kyle says as he taps his fingers against the driving wheel and whistles in sync.

"Right. That's what you've been saying for the past half an hour," I reply laconically, clearly not buying and impressed with any of his excuses.

Everything's going perfectly like it should until the car, jerks forward, slows down abruptly and begins wheezing and sputtering as if it's experience some form of breathing problems due to the lack of air intake.

My head turns to Kyle's direction and I glare with so much intensity that I could swear he feels the back of his head heating up at a dangerous rate and eventually catching fire. Kyle doesn't meet my eye. Instead, he lets out a humorless laugh and scratches the back of his head- a clear sign of distress.

"Chels, I think we've just ran out of gas."

~•~•~•~•

After taking advantage of the 5 minutes waiting time spent on refilling the gas tank and settling the bills, I manage to sneak a short walk around the gas station and relax my back and bum muscles. With the gas tank filled, Murphy sleeping and Kyle's bladder empty, we set out to the city of wonders.