none of my nevermind

The dashboard isn't lit up- Not a single light on that thing has any juice hooked up. It's stranger than you'd think. The way that walking down a dirt road darkness-blinded makes you feel light and confused stepping into rocks, the dark dials inside make the trip eerily quieter.

There's a bump. Pull over immediately, because that's just the first little indicator of educated expectation. It's almost a tug rather than a jar, slight, recognized after long years.

Can't really see, still. Just the hands on the dash, palms down on the surface. Like stroking the fur on a large dog dreaming about adventures and heat.
No... baby. Baby, why do this. Palm above where the clock would be, resting there as the car's glide stops. Baby.

Empathy for the vehicle. No hostility, annoyance; if this could be made right then it would be. Past effort on those hands, as they are, for a time.

Hey. The voice changes, not much louder but less intimate. Hey. Almost saying something more but it seems to get caught somewhere between brain and mouth. He turns toward the passenger seat and reaches into the pile of laundry there. Then a shift of mind and he sits back, arranging his feet under the wheel and getting comfortable. At which point the laundry sits up, responding to the lack of tension (mechanical or human) in the air.

We stopped?
We stopped.
I'm getting out?

He doesn't answer, crossing his arms over his already comfortable chest. She sighs without turning toward him. Noisy, careless movement in the seat and forearms stretched onto the dash. Chin in one elbow, facing the road, shadows under a hood.

Lights bead and pool, slowing but passing. Without looking one arm raises overhead, slowly desperate to catch the right moment to wave goodbye as the train starts to move away. Thinking don't stop this and change anything, but also come find me. Next week. While another girl watches water go under a bridge and burns in the sun to fingertips waiting. Gripping the bar there, knowing his car, and his privacy in this company.

Ok. Starting dull, then curious, ending with a snap like a laugh- the way two-syllable words can go sometimes if you listen to them again. A silly partnered dance, but it takes time for an engine to cool.