For an hour, there's been nothing but the quiet. For an hour, she's made every sound, every noise, every slightest disruption to that quiet, hidden well in plain sight behind a windshield tinted heavy by the blinding glare of afternoon's light.
She drifted tired, sunken eyes over at the vacant passenger seat where a small opened notepad was left to bake in the sun. The harsh white glaze of the paper sent colorful splotches obscuring her vision to which she irritably blinked out.
With one hand over the steering wheel, she clicked a nearly depleted pen hanging loose between her fingers, and with the other. she reached for the notepad… bringing them together, she brought the tip of the pen pressing down against the last empty white space of the page before it was officially filled to the brim with countless amounts of her hasty scribbles.