she sat curled up in the passenger seat,
her bones cracking as she shifted positions.
the rain were like little gems clustered on the windshield.
she watched them slide down,
and eventually disappear.
she pushed her cheek to the glass,
and it was hardly evident
(her breath perspiring on the window)
the pinnacle of emptiness.
her eyelids fluttered constantly, in worry
well what's wrong? she says
it's nothing, it's just nothing.
but isn't it always just nothing?