It was in the car when we felt it the most. How could we not when it breathed down our necks, strangled us through the silence between song changes and stared dead into our eyes at every red light turned green? We knew it should be spoken, brought to life so we could examine it, determine what our next step was— what we would say to each other. But it seemed, as always, we could never begin to move the soft muscle of our tongues, let it taste truth for the first time. 

Instead, we took timid glances at one another, waited and held our breath as the other breathed. We yearned for the solace of warm words and lasting touches, but preferred the look of iced-over windows, the passerby van with faces that reflected what we wished we could be. 

What exactly was it that we wanted to be, though? Did we even have that figured out? No, maybe the only real thing we had figured out was each other and how “we” no longer felt the same. 

Perhaps it was then we decided that car rides were best taken alone. Or perhaps, we realized that car rides with each other were best not taken at all.

Prompt:

Write your own short pie