Like the fog rolling across the windshield in spectral waves, the silence in the car was heavy with things that were not spoken. Although neither of them recognized it, they both felt as though their ribs were being compressed like caged birds by the rhythm of shared trauma created by each breath that seemed to reverberate in the small area.
They had left the estate behind their route winding through the seemingly engulfing midnight fog outside their headlights. The fog was so dense that it masked sound and made it hard to tell the difference between the earth and the sky, giving the impression that they were moving through a void that was only occasionally broken by the skeletal outline of bare trees. Like water cutting ribbons through low mist headlights, make temporary paths through th
