1 0440

His head throbbed and ached as it beat like a drum fire assuming his entire skull racing to temples. He focuses on the road or tries to flex both arms and squinting his eyes adjusting to the darkness. No street lamps provided any light; the only source of it came from his high beam headlights. Ordinarily he wouldn't use high beams on a normal road. It was 3am a long rural stretch, the last before his cabin, before his home. He knew wildlife frequently crossed and it would only be a matter of time before his luck ran out, after all he had been living in this town for nearly 30 years and had never once hit a deer. His eyes strain as another shot of pain pushes through. He swerves slightly but just enough to alert his passenger. Her sharp British voice alarming him at first.

"Are you alright?" she asks while waking from sleep.

He lies "yes"

It was a stupid mistake, she could always tell when he was lying.

From the corner of his eye, not taking them from the road, he sees her lift a brow as she shifts, sitting up and pulling the lever on her chair. Looking around the woman brushes past her previous sentence, beginning a new one.

"We are almost home, love."

She is somehow able to determine their precise location even in the dark of night using love as an endearing word, but also a word of emotion.

"How could you possibly tell that my dear?" he asks slowly, preparing to turn.

The woman smiles knowingly.

"Oh secrets, after 40 years of marriage I thought I knew all of those?" he says blinking.

Breaking seconds of silence the radio clicked on fuzzing in between stations until finding the one of its choosing. A song popped on, slow and delicate. The voices are quiet as they lift into the night.

The old woman lifted her head to the man's eyes wide.

"Did you do that?" she asks concern, filling her voice.

"No." he says, taking his eyes from the road for only a couple seconds.

The woman smiles larger, leaning her head against the door propping her elbow up on the window seal.

The man turns.