Never Seen Snow

'I've never seen snow', he says, his eyes like
weak tea shining back to deflect all reason. Grass verge after grass
verge pass by and still I haven't made up my mind. Fat rain begins to
fall, flick the wipers to their fastest setting and somehow my mind is
going slower. Turn the radio off as it's drowning faster than the road
markings beneath the deafening roar of freefalling water. More than
anything I want to look back on this and smile.

'So what are we going to do?' His voice is dark
chocolate and rum. His hand is on my thigh, gently placed without my
noticing until he presses his fingers into the bare flesh. Branding
me.

'I love you.' Now I have to speak. I love him too.
I love him too much. I love him too much to care about the impending
madness of the situation.

'Your mother will hate me.' He looks out of the
window. The rain is beginning to lessen, but my wipers are still
frantically waving. Not waving but drowning I think in time to their
hectic rhythm. 

Thick brown eyelashes that curl out towards me,
reaching my cheek, stroking the damp skin as he looks from the stars
outside to my face. I count the freckles under his eyes and run the
tips of my fingers over his brow bone. Beautiful. His eyes are dark but
still open and searching me for answers like a frightened child. How
can I explain?