Twenty

The downpour was quite heavy. I'm not sure if I understood how Mr. Decarlo managed to drive without even slowing down.

The only thing that managed to make the silence less awkward, was the sound of raindrops continuously crashing on the hood of the car.

Oh god, this is so awkward... what am I supposed to say!? Wait a minute, why did I even get in his car in the first place!? I don't even know where he's headed to. Where is he taking me!? Obviously not home! He doesn't know where I live! Why isn't he asking me!? S***! Holy s***! This is bad!!!

Slowly, I turned to take a glimpse of him. He had his eyes fixed on the road, one hand on the wheel. His head rested against the seat. He looked peaceful, but it was evident that there was a lot running through his mind.

"What are you looking at, Winslow?" He groaned.

Almost immediately, I averted my gaze back onto the road. Gulping, I braced myself to raise a question.

"Mr. Decarlo?" I muttered, followed by a gulp.

Silence.

Curious about