Two people in a car resenting each other. A woman and man. Driving saying nothing. Fighting silently. But what joy this is to be alive and to feel. Who else would give this to me but her? Who else would make my life this way give me these vibrant colors and this jagged experience she gives me, scenery flowing by in counterpoint to our silence in here.
She is looking out the window.
Her bags are in the trunk.
She sighs, her hands folded in her lap. The line of her turned face against the glow of the window, warm, light-filled, suffused and faded fading into the passing blur beyond her. A diamond earring and her hair pulled back in a pony tail away from her neck long and fine.
I am in the process of losing her.
I am in fixed final stages counting down mileage markers each closer to the airport freeway exit and the airport expressway and short term parking and the terminal, the check-in, the security gate metal detector, the boarding gate, the final call and then myself alone watching her back in the crowd being covered and taken.
The inane radio and the sound of the engine running.
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