I switch my gaze to a point beyond him and comment on something, anything, that I can see. Everyone in the City seems busy. They all have something to do, somewhere to go and they try to rush to it. In the time capsule of my car I hear his soft breathing, punctuated occasionally by a throat-clearing cough. I'm breathing his air, so at least there is something of him that I am absorbing.
Ships sit on the horizon, as if teetering on the edge of a huge waterfall.
Closer to shore a few yachts pitch gently on the soft swell, signaling frantically with their tiny flashing pin-prick lights. The moment I wanted to hold on to must pass. I feel as if I have been holding my breath for hours, and now I must let it go. I indicate and pull over, squeezing the brake slowly, drawing out the moment with everything that I have at my command. Finally, I can avoid it no longer.