The Distance

The Distance

Hydro towers lugged wires over the horizon. She made crow’s feet fork out the corner of her eye when I asked if we were going to keep carrying on like this. I don’t know. The drive tense. We argued about what the order of numbers and letters on license plates meant: cop, lease, rental, company car— that’s what an F plate means, fuck off. Cloud scudded sky and the nearest trees blacked by dusk. Another string of towers flashed passed, their lines rising and falling off into the distances we'd driven.