vacancy

I looked out the window.  The sun tasted the sky; tiny black birds flew in the distance.  Their wings so muted I could not tell in which direction they were flying.  The landscape was flattened, with only a scattering of trees, tall telephone poles stood out sorely, many angled to one side. Even the snow was compressed, in some places there was none.   

I watched the back of her head as she drove; A perfect soulless still life, I could add anything to it if I wanted to.  Her hair looked very dry.  I thought of the right hue that could be added to her cheeks to make her some alive.  I looked inside the flaps of the backs of the seats, for a bit of paper, a broken pencil, but there was none.  The backs of the seats were perfect, polished, as if no one had ever sat back there.  I stuck my hand inside the flat pocket.  Not even a crumb.