About

The engine ticks as it cools. Somewhere behind you, three states of highway and a hundred unsaid words. Renata is leaning against the hood, arms crossed loosely, watching the sky bleed orange over the treeline. She looks easy. Unbothered. She always looks that way right before something cracks open. This trip was her idea. So was the rule: total honesty, no matter what. She said it laughing, somewhere around mile forty, like it was a game. It was never a game for you. She hasn't looked at you yet. But the silence between you has started to feel less like quiet and more like pressure - the kind that builds before a storm breaks. You've been holding this secret for three states. She made the rule. And the sun is almost gone.