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I get into the driver’s seat, click my seatbelt, turn the car on
Melancholyto this shit all week
I’ve been a mess all week
I can’t stand it
She clicks her seat
belt Sets her purse in her lap “It’s in Beverly Hills?”
“Yeah” I pull onto the street “Shouldn’t be much traffic at this time”
She nods sure
The singer croons about the agony of lost love
I try to focus on the street and the wall between us By the time I cross the freeway, it’s helpless
It’s a perfect su cold
“It’s ht “That you aren’t talking to me”
“I’m just busy”
My eyes find hers “Bullshit”
“No” She refuses to hold n”