The days pass in a blurry haze as the slow rhythmic hum of the engine and light tunes from the radio soothe me in and out of sleep. Every now and then, when the burning in my body eases and I am conscious long enough to hear, I hear the radio host announce what day it is. Sometimes my skin feels like it's rippling, like the waves on the lake with a soft summer breeze.
Sometimes it feels like my bones would break with every bump Alex's truck hits, only to realign without warning. Sometimes I can smell the tang of blood in the air and wonder if it's from me or a poor animal hit on the side of the road. Sometimes a lullaby that is so familiar but hard to remember where I heard it from is sung to me, and in my moments of consciousness and asking Alex about it, I learn that no one in the p
