Silent Partner – Alexis Wolfe
The bones of her buttocks imprint my seat pad. Even before I was required, she was one of those women, an unnecessary weightwatcher, a faddy dieter. People only notice me, never her. Cats stalk roads to avoid us. She squeezes my armrest when nervous. Deep in my suspension, in my aluminium bones, I sense she knows her husband works late to avoid her. Sometimes her sighs are the only music of our day. But occasionally, she’ll call volume up at the radio, and together we roll forward, forward, forward, back, back, back, a dance of sorts.