Salton Sea

He took long slow drags on his cigarette, exhaling thick plumes of grey smoke out of his nose, and over the wheel. His ashen face hadn’t felt a razor’s edge in days, and the long white hairs had formed on his head like cracks on porcelain. I saw the dark sloe rings around his eyes like week old bruises, framing those long weighted blinks that told me how tired he was. I looked at myself in the mirror. I remember that I looked tired too.