She said 37 words in fifteen seconds on the start of the drive home. 37 words in fifteen seconds. I don’t know what she said. I was too busy counting. She says I live inside my head. I don’t think she understands the irony. 37 words, she wasn’t even breathless. I don’t know if it was an attempt to fill the silence or if it was her way of closing the distance between us by opening it, or she was simply measuring it. Maybe the silence makes her agitated, or was she searching for me in it. We sat in silence for the rest of the drive. I thought she said something but she just sighed.

At the end of the drive home, in silence, I turned to her to search for any sign on her face that she was searching for clues in mine.