Why are you doing this?

"Why are you doing this?" she spoke as if not expecting a response.

Her voice penetrated the still air of our speechless drive, so suddenly that my heart had jumped.

"I'm not doing anything," I said, but I didn't even believe that myself.

"This is what's best, for me, for you, for us," or maybe just for me I thought,

as a tear formed in the pit of her eye. The music poured through the speakers

and we were losing ourselves in the cadence. She looked down momentarily and closed her eyes

for a bit longer than a standard blink. Then she was crying. Then she was shouting.

Then I was shouting, now pouring confessions, having no answers, or solutions,

we barely even knew the questions.