She plays that card, puts on an act. She looks past your eyes into your mind. It’s all for show, but he hadn’t caught on.
Give up your dreams little boy, you’re a fool to have them.
And as the act comes to an end and the moment reaches its climax, she tightens her lips and swallows hard. She looks ahead, no where else, as he sits breathing deeply, eyes set on the ceiling.
This is the dream, the fool imagines. These are my years, my time.
She knows what the dream is, and starts her car, waiting for a response. He sits calm but simultaneously he is out of control.
And she crushes his dream sending him to his demise.
He’s been living in and out of strangers cars now, without a dream. But still a fool.