I trace a line in space and bifurcate the emptiness. A vector without a reference, so I take a picture of the woman picking her nose in the car next to me. She thinks she's alone.
Maybe we share a moment like this every morning, on the 10, heading East, hypnotized by brakelights and mindless DJ chatter. We could be companions. I could learn to recognize her, her car, her swerve, her neurotic lane-changing, her tapping finger and her quick acceleration to the next stop. Sometimes I see her in my rearview mirror, I slow down, let her catch me, let her slip ahead of me only to watch her take an exit long before mine. Perhaps we'll do this again sometime? Tonight? No... have to work late.
Still.
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