Raindrops tap danced on the windshield, tappity, tappity, tap. Lorena's hands were stuck to the steering wheel like they were glued there. Her lips were sealed like there had been extra glue left over from her hands. Her eyes pointed straight ahead.
Sitting in the passenger seat, Meg eyed the car radio, hesitating. She wanted to turn it on, to have some sound in the car other than the beat of rain, the periodic swipe of windshield wipers, and the silence.
Meg reached out her hand until her fingers were nearly on the radio's volume knob. Was that her imagination, or did Lorena's jaw just clench? Meg let her hand fall to her lap and she wrapped it around the strap of her backpack. The fine wrinkles around Lorena's eyes smoothed slightly as she relaxed.
Tappity, tappity, tap.
“I'm sorry,” Meg said.
Lorena said nothing.
Tappity, tappity, tap.
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