“68 miles,” I replied.
Only to be met with silence.“68 miles,” I replied. This time with a glance towards the rear-view mirror. My hands wringing the steering wheel. My foot falling heavy on the gas pedal.
She whispered from the back seat, “I don’t think I can travel any farther”.
Her slumped form had taken up residence in the back, refusing to drive. Acting repulsed at being asked to operate the gas pump at the station. Only speaking when it suited her.
“68 miles are all that remains, and now you can go no farther?" I muttered out loud, more for myself than for her ears.
She had quit listening. Again.
Darkness began to take over this particular stretch of road, my eye lids grew heavy with fatigue, and the Oldsmobile headlights rebelled at being switch on. I too began to wonder if I could travel any farther.
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