The sky is Grey...
I can smell the rain coming, can almost taste it on my tongue. I see mountains in the distance.
Telephone lines that stretch the distance, grass fields that go on for miles. Angry, thick, grey clouds, heavy with rain, the atmosphere outside is tense ready to burst and release itself onto the earth.
It mimmicks the tension in the car. Silent but threatening, threatening to release a storm of bottled emotions in the form of harsh words that maybe would not be so harsh had they been spoken earlier.
We haven't looked at each other since we got into the car, and like the clouds water threatens to spill from my eyes. I can hear your laboured breathing. I can see how tight your grip on the steering wheel is.
You still won't look at me...
I'm afraid to say a word not yet ready to confront what I know I should be confronting, but all I want to do is reach over and hold your hand, say I'm sorry. Even though I don't know what to be sorry about. I never do.
