We drove back to the city in sobering silence.
The one that comes after a tantrum: when you no longer scream, but still do not understand what exactly you have done. You just hold on to the steering wheel and the only thought: "back to the fire."
The headlights picked out the gray ribbon of the highway. The forest on either side of the road was a wall, like a corridor leading from one nightmare to another. The radio was turned off. Phones — in silent mode. The world outside the machine temporarily ceased to exist.
I sat in the passenger seat, my legs tucked under me, and stared at Tod's profile.
The dashboard light made his face look sharper. Cheekbones are like blades. The shadow of her lashes fell in dark arcs across her cheeks. Her eyelids were slightly swollen, not from sleep. From
