We sat in the middle of the tunnel, cold rails under us while we drowned in darkness. The faint light coming from either side gave a false hope of comfort as though maybe you'd see a silhouette of some ethereal shadow-creature before it struck.

Drips dropped from the rocky surfaces and echoed, faintly, & ever so often; just often enough to remind us that time was passing.
The wisps of smoke that danced away from the tip of the blunt vanished into the darkness as easily as we had, our faces only visible when the orange ember surged to life during each inhale.

We sat and we spoke, and when we weren't speaking we were listening to the silence that resonated in between those dripdrops of condensation.

As full of smoke as the tunnel, we trudged our way back towards that faint wall of light that marked the edge. The invisible rails that had been our seats slowly crept back into existence as we moved on, more light slipping in between the darkness we had been inhabiting.

The silence took his cue and bowed out gracefully as the conversations of insects and nearby highways began, leaving us with each other as we continued on our way.