in as many miles," She idly commented.He didn't answer her right away because he was still angry. They had exited thefreeway a short while ago onto a secondary road that wound up into the Poconoísmountains. From the moment they had exited the freeway, she had complained abouthow fast he had been going, and at this a heat grew under his collar at her words until heexploded. An argument had quickly ensured. She: Dear, you are going to fast. He: It's justa few miles over the speed limit. She: Dear, we have already seen six animals along theside of the road. And you know Dear, it is getting dark and in the shadows the animalsare difficult to make out. He: There is still enough light. She: Dear, please slow down.He: Oh...hell...all...RIGHT! Are you satisfied now? She: Sitting in sullen silence for thelast few milesAs he thought about it now he tiredly shook his head. The thought that she mightbe playing the worn out long ago 'I told you so game,' and that he was perfectly willing toreact to it as always and carry it along to its scripted long brooding silent conclusionbetween the both of them by playing the jerk suddenly seemed all to familiar to him. Hewas surprised by the feeling and momentarily wondered why he hadn't seen the stupidityof the game long before now. But of course he had, he thought tiredly. But then he hadcared enough to fight for his point of view no matter how trivial; right now he didn't. Hejust wanted to be left alone."Yes," he acquiesced.He expected to feel some sort of anger at giving in so readily. A flare up of stomach acid. A slight throbbing of the temples. But there was just the tiredness of it all.The years. The lies. All to overwhelming to think about right now. So to divert hisattention from himself he glanced in the rear view mirror at the Possum. Although theday was coming to a close and although the forest was very thick, a single stream of sunlight knifed through the trees and shined on the Possum. The pure grandness of the lightstartled him and a part of him half expected the Possum to get up and follow the beam tothe mountain peaks far beyond the trees. Run run run, he silently urged, run to freedom.But he instantly knew this was silly. The possum was dead. He returned his attention tothe road."I guess because of the forest and the deep underbrush, they come out morefrequently here than on the freeway." He paused for a second and then added as anafterthought, "Probably just foraging for sustenance.""Sustenance," she intoned as if the word was unfamiliar."Food," he replied tiredly, knowing the tone in her voice."Yes. I suppose you are right."