“Home address is set?” I asked, more out of habit than anything.
“Yeah,” he said quietly.
We pulled away from the curb, the silence settling in almost immediately. Normally, I don’t mind quiet passengers. Most people just want to get where they’re going. But this felt different. Heavy. Like there was something sitting in the car with us that wasn’t being said.
A few minutes into the drive, I noticed him shifting slightly, like he couldn’t get comfortable. His breathing wasn’t steady either—too shallow, too uneven. I turned the music down instinctively.
“You okay back there?” I asked.
“Fine,” he replied too quickly.
That word again. Fine. It never really means fine when it sounds like that.
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