Original Scene: Driving Home

To practice writing realistic fiction, I wrote a small scene based on when I drove home after a haircut late at night. And the song I’m writing is based on a time I was driving some people around. What is it with me and cars right now? Anyway, here we go:

The windows were down, and he smiled as the night air slid across his tongue. His music was loud, and songs full of profanity rang through the trees and down the pavement. Almost no one was on the road out this late on a Thursday night. The few that were could get over the noise. A driver with their windows down being mildly annoyed for a few seconds was worth the feeling of the rippling gusts of wind and thundering bass tearing the darkness from his heart and making his nose go numb.

He slid a hand through his hair, intertwining his fingers with the tendrils of wind weaving through his roots. It slid a little too easily along the greasy product, and he could feel the patches of hair dye drying tight along his scalp. The wind blew a few strands into his face and he winced at how stringy they were before they were obligingly swept away. 

Most of these streets were closed right now as construction overtook these emptier areas. He looked off to his left and saw a crane towering above a concrete median. Its joints were still, and it looked like a sleeping giant with the moonlight glinting off its edges. He hummed to himself and continued down the roundabout.

A knot tightened in his stomach when he pulled into the driveway. His hair was too short, too dark. It had to be. The lights were still on. They were still awake. He snuck around to the back to water his plants.

A few bugs scattered away from the purple basil blossoms as he approached. The soil was still damp from the rain earlier, but he wanted to drop in and say hello. Chewing on a peppermint leaf he had plucked from a flowerpot, he watered every plant but the aloe and the dying orchid and looked off into the woods. The owl he often saw was not on its usual perch, and something rustled in the trees. In the stillness of the stars, it sounded like the stirring of some great beast. He put his watering can back under the porch and took out his keys.

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