After Fire - Dreamnotfound

Five|The March to the Sea

For the land of opportunity, he seemed to only be offered the same things every day.

"Put music on," Clay said, interrupting George's thoughts rather abruptly. "According to Google Maps, we're in for a long ride."

"No, it's just going to distract you."

"Oh, come on, that's stupid. It's not going to distract me."

"Yeah, sure, Clay. Keep your eyes on the road." George pointed ahead, and Clay rolled his eyes before glancing back in front of them. The next car was a decent distance away.

"Have I ever told you how boring you are?" Clay said.

"No, Clay. And I'm just dying to hear it," George said monotonously as he glanced out the window once again.

"Well, you are. Conversations with you are as dry as Antarctica."

"Antarctica? Are you calling me dry and white or something? What are you trying to say?"

"Antarctica is a desert, dumbshit. You're older. I thought seniors are supposed to be full of wisdom or something."

"Yeah, senior citizens. And I'm not dry. You just keep repeating the same conversations which lead to the same responses," George retorted. "Maybe be a bit more creative next time."

Clay didn't respond. Instead, he leaned over George and opened up the glove compartment. CDs filled the inside. George grabbed them, not recognizing any of the covers.

"Pick one," He said. "I like all the albums in there so I don't really care what you choose."

"They're probably all trash," George remarked.

"Oh, I'm sure yours is better. You look like you listen to my mom's Christian music."

George scoffed, though he felt his face heat up as he remembered the fact he knew all the words to the Christian music radio station. He grabbed a random album with a lady on the cover and inserted it into the car radio.

"Finally. Which did you choose?" He glanced over to George as he held up the album. Clay's eyes lit up.

"That's my favorite album! It has my favorite song on it." He turned the music up as the drums and bass guitar blasted through the radio. "Nice choice, Bitch Boy."

George reached over and turned the music down, and Clay gave him a sideways look and turned it back up. George turned it down again, and Clay turned it back up again. George reached to turn it down again.

"Stop! This is my favorite song," Clay said.

"You're going to make my ears bleed."

"Oh, my God, am I on a roadtrip with my mother?"

George lowered the music again simply to spite the younger boy to his left. When the boy stopped reacting, George turned the volume all the way down.

"Stop! You're so annoying." He turned the music back up. When George reached to turn it down again, Clay quickly interfered. "Wait, stop, seriously. The chorus is about to start." He grabbed George's wrist, and the latter didn't bother to use his other hand. He knew if he did, Clay wouldn't hesitate to take his hand off the wheel to grab it.

He sat back, and George finally decided to actually comprehend the music. The verse was mellow before building up into an explosion of colorful instruments as the vocals screamed out the lyrics. Clay sang along, seeming that he had listened to this song more times than George had been forced to endure Christian music.

"Please don't send me home
I'll be what you want me to
The stiffness in my bones
It subsides when given time to
Break. To stand
Too wrong, too slow, just let me go
So please don't send me home
I'll be what you want me to be..."