Crows

We were driving a bay side rural road. I rolled down the window. I could hear sea lions. I don’t know where we woke up, but we both knew we were in no shape to consider to it. I felt like a fop talking to her, she could be so much more mature than me, especially when she was driving that pickup. I rolled up the window when I began to salivate. I looked at the road swaying in front of us, the momentum on the turns gently rocking me too and fro.
“You’re quiet,” she said, her eyes fixed forward.
“I’m about to come up with something brilliant.”
I rolled down the window again, earning me a punitive glance. I made fists and made my body rigid. This worked for a while, but then the road sharply rose and fell.
“How do you feel, tiger?” She asked.
“Pretty normal,” I said, seeing my face resembled the overcast sky in the drivers side mirror.
“Hold on,” she turned sharply onto a gravel road, which went through a trailer park. A dog briefly chased the pickup. She finally stopped at a trailer at the very end, nearest the water. She got out and walked towards the door. I followed.
The inside was bright, filled with papers bills and photographs. I sat down in a dinning nook and felt the blood return to my face. The sea lions were quite near and loud. Who lives here? I asked her as she disappeared around the corner.
“My mom,” she returned with several orange pill bottles and lay them out on the table.
“Moms are good for this, among other things,” I said, gritting my teeth looking out the window.
“I think these are vicodin. This one might be oxy. She sort of pours them all together,” she took my hand put seven or so pills in it. Her hands were as dirty as mine. She then stood up and replaced the bottles. Retrieving bottle of wine from a cabinet, she swallowed a few pills with a swig. This seemed to break her distant mood. She walked over to the sink and leaned over, staring into the drain. I took a few of mine and we sat there for a while.
“Lets go.”
Now the road seemed to lightly bounce us from beneath. The clouds were a light clean cotton. “Do you ever get those moods?” I asked.
“Moods?”
“That feeling... so damn dark. So terrifying,” I had committed to the inquiry and I now had the strength to look her in the eyes... but she was driving and her returning my gaze could prove dangerous.
“Yes,” she said.
“It’s worse than awful. I can only talk about it when I’m not in it,” I leaned my face against the open window frame.
“It’s...” she trailed off.
“...a bastard,” I said.
“Like everything is a painting made on top of pure black. And where the black shows through is horrifying,” I noticed crows flying in the white sky and it chilled me. I couldn’t take my eyes off them. She watched me watch the crows.