The wind was brushing the hair on his forehead, and somehow I was mesmerized by his face, no matter how pained his expression was.
“I wasn’t there for him when his wife was dying. I was jealous, stupid…” He shook his head, and I gripped the rusty metal in front of me, fearing that he might lose concentration on the road.
“Jealous of his a dying wife?” I stared in disbelief.
“No, no! Of course not. I was still mad over the college thing. He got his life perfectly organized. College, engaged, married, got a place to live together,” I couldn’t hear him sigh over the roaring motorcycle, but I saw him do it.
Was I going to think how normal and ordinary this guy is every time he speaks about his past and his wishes?
“I understand about the college. It is my dream too. I mean, the result of it. I want to shame my writing skills and be a writer one day,” I told him truthfully.