The truth about failed love.

"Are we really listening to The Streets?" she thought to herself. She always thought her first time would be to "Colourblind," like hundreds of other girls had hoped. She felt safe in that basement, until the footsteps of her boyfriend's mom became more frequent. Eventually, it got to the point where she would open the door, march down, and stand outside the makeshift curtain door. His mom wanted him out, and it was obvious.

It was 8:00pm and they were in bed. That's all they ever did. "I have no idea what I'm doing with you." The words were muted, but entirely clear. Audible. Laced with regret. She put on her clothes, walked up the stairs, and went out the door. Night enveloped her, and that was the end.

The windows were rolled down, and while driving along the highway at her standard 10km above, she threw out the mix CDs. Some were really good, but they were overplayed.


She never went home. Instead, she drove to another city to start again.