Hi. This is the fourth story. A little story I made in the heat of the moment, under the influence of Paolo Nutini's Alloway Grove. That's a fantastic song. I like this story, for some reason, even though it's not really my thing.

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She was singing in the back of the car. She was wearing a vintage ‘80’s shirt and age-old blue jeans she wore when she painted. There was a blue paint smudge on her cheek and mud ingrained in her fingernails. Her hands were dirty.

She was perfect.

“Hey, keep your eyes on the road, dolt,” she chided.

I averted my eyes from the front mirror and grinned at the road. She was leaning over from the back, turning up the volume on the analogue radio. I bet the people in the car behind us were getting a right treat, seeing her butt in the back window. I was actually kind of jealous.

She sung loudly in my ear and smacked the back of my seat, laughing and encouraging me to join in.

Benson was starting to sing too. He’s her twin brother and my partner in crime. He patted my shoulder and told me to sing too, so I did. I couldn’t face those two and live to tell the tale. I learnt long ago that I had to do what they said or face mortal peril.

So I sung. We sung even though we didn’t know the words. We sung ‘til the sun was starting to hover on the horizon.

“We’re perfect together, you know,” I told them when we all calmed down and Benson was starting to drift off to sleep with his head on her shoulder.

“Yeah, we are,” she said. She stroked Benson’s hair lightly as his eyelids fluttered. It was obvious he was struggling not to fall asleep.

I shared a smile with her. She stuck her tongue out at me.

“I live for you guys…” Benson murmured, before his eyes finally shut.

I glanced at her, showing her my shock. She smiled.

“He’s so cute, isn’t he?”

“That’s a funny thing to say about your brother,” I commented.

She grinned. “Yeah, I guess so.” She was looking out the window, the orange-red glow of the setting sun colouring her face. She looked so satisfied, so at peace with the world. I always feel the way she looks when I’m with the twins.

Benson isn’t the only one. I live for the twins, too.

“I live for you two,” I admitted.

“I live for you two as well,” she admitted, still looking out the window.

Benson snored.

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Thanks for reading

Xx the Berserker xX