Caught in the drag of traffic meandering a.m. under cataract eyes of street lamps, parallel to shopfronts despondent. Bleak slate clouds overhang sullen and brooding with rain through which we drive listening to indicators tutting each turn as if they witnessed some moment of shame. the wipers toss aside windscreen diamonds like reminders of treasured times squandered. An ache without physical pain We e-rode away.