“So what if it lingers?

What do you mean, so what??”

His palms shake, face flooded red

Rosalia tint, Rosacea itched hands

A cold sweat dripped down his head,

3 years into college

Top marks, already accepted to his fathers law firm

The phone call, with said father

Was tense

The young man was tinted cranberry, a tinged whimper-whisper trying to appeal to the authority of his life

A god who only loves what he expects from you

In his backpack was a flyer for a car show, 5 miles away from the library he was studying at

He intended to race today

But his father kept up with his whereabouts, knowing his son had a tendency to stray from

The path he was destined for

And he called him.

“Son, you know that racing has no room in your dreams”

“Forgo whatever feeling you have, achieve the dreams made for you”

He even sprinkled in, an I love you

A sincere one.

But the young man was done

He was directly telling, the director of his story, the driver of his car

That he wouldn’t let it linger any longer.

And he spurred out of his chair, and hanging up the phone,

He murmured, if “I leave now, I can make it with five minutes to spare”

And so he loaded up his super sick modded mini cooper and raced to the starting line

The cars lined up, with a spot in the back vacant for him

In the audience was the woman of his dreams

And behind her, his father

“I always knew you could do it son”

He mouthed

And the son smirked, getting ready to start the legend of :

The super duper mini cooper trooper.

(This is all a true story by the way because I saw it happen yesterday, totally)