cooler than the millions: excerpt

so, i have finally started to write some substantial stuff for my next book, cooler than the millions. this piece is basically the first thing i've written in about four months. (bear in mind that i haven't edited any of this. this is all just first impressions):

- - -

To be free. It’s as much a state of love and trust as anything ever was. Sean stares out the window of the cab as she’s propelled through the larger-than-life metal cage of the bridge. She can hear the repeated thumping of the taxi’s rubber tires hitting each metal ridge of the bridge. Window down in the back seat, Sean feels the cool breeze hit her skin. Too young to die, too old to de-evolve, too smart to fantasize, too tired to digress, Sean sits back in her chair and watches the sun sparkle off the water’s malleable skin that rolls and stretches and comes back together again. The cab driver glances up at her image in the rearview mirror ever once in a while. Eyes darting from her to the road. Like schizo. Only less dramatic and more curious. She watches the faces passing by the other way, in and out of her life just like that. Faces, one of a kind, never to be seen again. And it’s all she can do but think about flight. The word flight, every syllable, every letter. To be free. And it’s then that she catches the driver’s eye. And he says something to her in his thick, indiscernible accent. At first she doesn’t respond. He repeats it. Echoes.

- What? Excuse me?

- Where are you?

- I don’t…

- Where are you go? Where are you?

- Oh. You mean, where do I want to go?

- Yes. Where are you?

- Anywhere from here, mister.

She checks her phone and puts it on silent mode before plopping it back into her purse. Norm sits across the table from her, his sunglasses glued to his face. He puts his beer down and asks her who it was and Sean just shrugs. She pokes at her salad with her fork. When he asks again, Sean groans.

- What? It’s rude to answer the phone at a restaurant. So all of a sudden I’m getting demerits for having manners? It’s not like my phone is necessary.

- Okay, don’t spazz out. I was just curious. Don’t kill the cat.

- It was John. Again.

- And you didn’t want to answer it?

- He’s like a puppy.

- So tell me what it’s like where you are.

- What do you mean?

- To be in a place where there’s someone who loves you so fully and completely.

- God!

- You don’t like it?

- I never asked for it.

- People die for it.

- Fuck off, Norm. I never asked for it. I never asked for it.

- How’d you meet him anyway?

- I woke up in his bed.

- …

- God, it’s not like that. We didn’t do anything.

- Uh-huh.

- I honestly don’t know how I got there.

Norm smirks and brings his beer to his mouth. When Sean asks him why they couldn’t go sit out on the porch, he says,

- You know I have sensitive skin, baby.

- Still… the sun is good for you. You look pale.

- White is the new black. Take a good look, cause a hundred years from now, we’ll all be canola oil. They’ll be bottling this shit.

- Do you mind if we stop at the mall? I want to get the new Death Cab CD.

- Sure. Whatever.

He looks out the window and absently starts gnawing on the back of his fist. Sean sighs and stabs some more salad before putting the utensil down. She drinks some water and Norm waves at a waiter for the bill and then mentions to her something about how she shouldn’t dress so conservatively.

- You look like a fucking debutant.

Sean unbuttons the top few buttons of her blouse and glares at him.