The car moved at its usual speed, smooth and unhurried, but the air inside it grew heavier with every passing second. It pressed down on the driver and Henry alike, making it hard to breathe normally.
The driver stole a brief glance at Henry through the rearview mirror, and Henry, pale and rigid in his seat, caught it. Neither of them said a word.
While the driver was still recovering from the unbearable sweetness of the couple he had witnessed earlier, Henry was fighting an entirely different battle.
He focused on breathing, slow and steady, as if that alone could keep him from passing out. His fingers curled tightly in his lap, knuckles white.
Neither of them realized when it happened, but somewhere along the way they both began silently cursing their respective jobs.
