Eighteen.

9.20.17

 

I remember being 18 and smiling at the shape of you in the passenger seat. 
I always sat behind you, maybe it was so I could see your face in the side view mirror. 
I remember my arms strung over the top of your seat.
You were playing with my fingers.
You always tapped the tops of my hands in sync with the beat of the music. 
The windows were down and we both had long hair that got caught in our eyelashes and mouths.
You bit my hand, just like we were little kids again...
except we still were little kids.
We were so young and we had no clue