The sun rose silently above the Greyhound that ran along the USA 40.  Kathy shifted in her seat, wary of waking her companion.  She paused for a second before pulling the old travel blanket closer to her chin.  Beside her, he slept with long, low sighs.  Once again she rested her head against the warmed glass window.

She was so far from home.  

It was the end of March, near her mother’s birthday.  He had brought her flowers that bled bright yellow and blue.  She placed them in the vase which sat in the window above the kitchen sink.   As he left her in the doorway he turned back for a moment, “I love you.”  He had said as he closed the garden gate, his dark hair askew in the spring breeze.  

Oh, I love you.  Kathy closed her eyes in the sun’s forgiving warmth.  Her companion sighed restlessly in his sleep.  She realized she did not want him to wake.  (For Emily, Wherever I May Find Her from Parsley, Sage, Rosemary, and Thyme)

For them, Simon and Garfunkel   

“Kathy,” He said as they boarded the old greyhound, “Michigan feels like a dream to me now.”  

She did not reply, but instead sat, letting her head fall against the window as she absently scanned the passing fields.  Hours later his quiet laughter woke her, “Look at that man in the suit,” he whispered with a grin, “he must be a spy.”

 She offered him a cooperative smile, and shifted in her seat.  ”Toss me a cigarette,”  she sighed, running a hand through her undone hair, “I think there’s one in my raincoat.”  

“We smoked the last one an hour ago.”

Silent, she rustled in the leather bag for her magazine.  She flipped through articles she had read twice already until the sunlight faded and the moon rose above them over the wide fields.  Her head came to rest against the window, then his shoulder when the glass became too uncomfortable to bare.

“Kathy, I’m lost” He whispered into the darkness.  (America from The Best of Simon and Garfunkel)

Well, Simon and Garfunkel