The headlights, as always,
were blinding.
The End
was carried in discomfort between us,
its warm air pushing sweat
from our pores.
Some lost cells lead us to this point,
the word "tumor" hanging
                        numb
                        in the air.
There, we had no choice
       but to leave the conversation;
       unsatisfied, but now
       more aware of what lingers
       in the shadows cast by
       headlights at dusk.