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Author: Guede Mazaka
Rating: G
Pairing: Smecker gen
Feedback: Spelling errors to constructive crit., whatever.
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Notes: For ladyjanelly in return for the music.
Summary: The blues gets to Paul.
***
Upstate New York’s still pretty close to boondock territory. Driving through it at night, the trees lining the roads seem to hunch cackling in the breezes that always smell a little bit funny. If a guy wants to get through it back to civilization, he can either speed it with his teeth chattering and his hands clenching the wheel, or he can amble with a fifth of good whiskey slipping through his veins, another keeping him company on the seat beside him, and something raw and dark on the radio. Three guesses which one Paul likes, and two of ‘em don’t really count.
Thing about the second way, though, is it skates damn close to the edge of turning off the road and soaking in the blackness of humanity that even modern mood-drugs haven’t yet managed to conquer. It puts one in the mind to do some damage. Disobey the law entirely—any law. The Federal law, God’s law…any law but that of pain and retribution.
The song winds down—some woman chuckling about depression—and with it, so does the link to culture. Paul reaches to change the CD and hesitates.
Just for a second. He switches in a fresh one and sits back to wonder what-might-have-been. Outside, the trees wave him goodbye, but not sadly. Expectantly.
***