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Well, as far as I know, the night had been cold, but it was April; so that was to b expected.  He said, Jim, said that he was on his way home that night, who knows from where, when he saw me at the side of the road.  Apparently, I was squatted down, drawing a map with a stick in the dirt- my directions home.  So, Jim, bless his heart, picked me up to drive me home.  A fallen angel at the side of the road and her dashboard saviour.
I must have been there; cast out, you know, for whichever reason.  It was down, on this bitter, biting day of the week, and the wind was breaking through my shirt.  My chest swelled and shrank in short, coarse breaths, expelling the biting air as it speared into my lungs.
Jim says he can still remember the goose bumps on my arms, and my clicking teeth.  God help me, I still remember his smile.  He sometimes tells me how he studied that map for some time, as to get me home safely- but we lost our ways anyhow.  I know how every dashed colour between white and red would have lit up his face and shone clear in his eyes, as he looked ahead while I slept.
I recall Jim confessing that he was never more peaceful and at rest than when he could hear me sleeping.  Inspiring in and out through the night’s rain, rhythmically pounding on the windows.  Winding roads, and a million thoughts racing through his mind, all he could force out to a whisper was: “Life‘s subtle tragedies.”  Sometimes he’d chuckle at the vague poetic ring to it.  Sometimes he’d be on the verge of tears. And through the rain, and down the winding roads, Jim kept on with his divination.
Jim, he smelled so badly of cheap gin and cloves.  I suppose they, presumably hidden in chewing gum, were to cover the gin smell; but ended up only bring it out more.  I could smell it in him, and taste it on him.  There’s no way he was fit to drive.  But, to be fair, I wasn’t fit to live, and we weren’t fit to be together.  So we drove on in silence.
Me, Jim, and our inadequacies driving over the centre line as the gentle grip of sleep claimed us both.

Description
Well, as far as I know, the night had been cold, but it was April; so that was to b expected.  He said, Jim, said that he was on his way home that night, who knows from where, when he saw me at the side of the road.  Apparently, I was squatted down, drawing a map with a stick in the dirt- my directions home.  So, Jim, bless his heart, picked me up to drive me home.  A fallen angel at the side of the road and her dashboard saviour.
I must have been there; cast out, you know, for whichever reason.  It was down, on this bitter, biting day of the week, and the wind was breaking through my shirt.  My chest swelled and shrank in short, coarse breaths, expelling the biting air as it speared into my lungs.
Jim says he can still remember the goose bumps on my arms, and my clicking teeth.  God help me, I still remember his smile.  He sometimes tells me how he studied that map for some time, as to get me home safely- but we lost our ways anyhow.  I know how every dashed colour between white and red would have lit up his face and shone clear in his eyes, as he looked ahead while I slept.
I recall Jim confessing that he was never more peaceful and at rest than when he could hear me sleeping.  Inspiring in and out through the night’s rain, rhythmically pounding on the windows.  Winding roads, and a million thoughts racing through his mind, all he could force out to a whisper was: “Life‘s subtle tragedies.”  Sometimes he’d chuckle at the vague poetic ring to it.  Sometimes he’d be on the verge of tears. And through the rain, and down the winding roads, Jim kept on with his divination.
Jim, he smelled so badly of cheap gin and cloves.  I suppose they, presumably hidden in chewing gum, were to cover the gin smell; but ended up only bring it out more.  I could smell it in him, and taste it on him.  There’s no way he was fit to drive.  But, to be fair, I wasn’t fit to live, and we weren’t fit to be together.  So we drove on in silence.
Me, Jim, and our inadequacies driving over the centre line as the gentle grip of sleep claimed us both.