“Getting there.” He yawned. “Looks like we're gonna have a soaker today.”
“Yeah, and a cold one.” She turned the radio on low and they were quiet for a minute. As a rule, she didn't mind just being with someone and not saying a word. But the space between them was a minefield of unsaid fears. The longer it lasted, the more the silence gave substance to them. Finally, she said, “I always find it hard to sleep on a bed I'm not used to.”
“For me, it's the pillows. Give me an old beaten down one I can bury my head into.” He looked off over the passing landscape of flowering meadows and ragged evergreens. “Beautiful country out here.”
She turned onto Farmstead Road. Headed south toward Route 22. “Yeah, I like the woods,” she said as they drove along the rolling straightaway littered here and
