Carl sat in the passenger seat with his leather briefcase on his lap.

I sat in the back, watching the bare oak trees blur past the window.

The twelve-mile drive felt like crossing a desert.

A line of farm trucks passed us going the other way.

I watched the drivers gripping their steering wheels and wondered whether they really knew the people sitting next to them.

Nobody turned on the radio.

Carl adjusted the vents to blow warm air onto the windshield.

The heater hissed against the quiet.