The car she was in pulled up alongside a car she was not in. The engine was cut, and the girl's driver left the vehicle for the convenience store. The girl, alone in a hot and locked car, rolled down her window and dropped her arm out over the side, letting her palm brush against the hot metal door. She turned to her right, looking out the window, to find a passenger in the driver's seat of the car ride beside the one she was sitting in. The boy had a look about him; it wasn't sad, nor was it happy. He looked completely absent, like his light had been drained.
The girl made a face, an over-exaggerated pout, and looked at the boy, wondering if she knew him. She craned her neck around, to see if she could look at him straight. She could not. The boy sensed eyes on him, and he slowly turned his head to the left to find a girl hanging out of her passenger side window, hand brushing against the side of her car door. When the two caught eyes, the girl raised her arm up slightly, now holding it in the air parallel to the pavement. The boy looked at her, confused. The girl held her hand out, palm down like she was reaching. The boy, for a reason he still doesn't comprehend, hung his left arm out of his window and raised it, level with the girl's. And their two hands were hanging in the air, level with the ground, and their fingers were so close it felt like touching.
