It is dark and we are silent. I drive, not looking at your seat. You have not spoken to me for several hours now as we cruise along in the dark.
You lean over and turn the radio on. The car light activates, bathing me in a soft, warm, yellow glow. It is a song you always loved. A smile forces its way onto my unwilling lips, even as tears begin to stream down my face. I sense your hand as it creeps over towards me. It hovers and I can almost feel the warmth again. I half-hear the soft tinkle of your laughter and suddenly I am back there, back to summer evenings watching the sunset and holding each other. Back to journeys, arguments and reconciliations. Back to a life we lost, all the things forgotten now. I hate this impassable distance between us; I want to hold onto this second before we slip away from one another once more.
I turn my head. It is dark. The radio is silent. You are gone. The tears stream down my face. I am alone again. I drive.