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♕︎
Edward drove in a reasonable speed, wanting to savor every moment they have left together before parting. He drove perfectly, barely looking at the road, to busy looking at Eleanora.
He drove one-handed, holding her hand, resting them both on his thigh. He sometimes gazed into the appearing moon and stars, sometimes glancing at her, how beautiful she looked, hair blowing from the wind that entered her open window.
He had turned the radio to an oldies station, and he sang along with a song, knowing every line.
Eleanora smiled as she harmonized with him here and there, knowing the songs that played.
Edward stopped singing and listened as she sang all the words fluently, harmonizing and making it better than the song.
"I love your voice." he smiled. She had a unique singing voice. A voice that can lull anyone to sleep, even him.
She stopped singing and glanced towards him, "What's your exact age?" she asked.
He looked away from the road and towards her, "I was born in Chicago in 1901." he looked back towards the road. He smiled at her patience. "Carlisle found me in a hospital in the summer of 1918. I was seventeen, and dying of the Spanish influenza." he said.
