The sign on the freeway says we wish you every happiness together but they knew better than that red neon. ‘I can feel your pulse.’ B reads all signs, speed limits, church boards, distance till destination. Mari has her feet on the dash, one hand tucked into the hem of her skirt. The other holds higher on his thigh, femoral pulse.

Things at the house were different to how they’d been before: the shapes of light on the lawn, how short her father cut the grass, where they taught the dog to climb the stairs, where she pushed her sister into the dirt, where she let her high school boyfriend fuck her mindlessly and without care, where she had thrown cigarettes onto the neighbour’s roof. Now there was no dog and no daddy.