Over the road noise, on top of the wind slashing over parts of the car that jutted from it’s otherwise smooth shell, came the pops. Angry klaxons sent as a warning. Pop. Pop. Pop.
He regretted now giving her the gum. He was ambivalent on the line that drove her to fill the rubberized chunk of gum paste and flavoring with tiny bubbles of air and collapse them between her lips.
Pop. Pop. Pop.
He reached for the wrapper she balled up between her fingers and held it out to her, somewhat smooth in his palm.
“As God is my witness, I thought you’d go for something like that,” he said.