coast-to-coast road trip

“Joe,” Amanda whispers almost tenderly. “Are you awake?”
“Mmrhmm.”
Joe is sleeping with a sleeping bag over his head, the way he always ends up by morning when he camps. He snakes a hairy arm over Amanda and nestles his face into her neck.
“Joe!” Amanda whispers again, not tenderly at all. She lies stiff, staring at the tent ceiling. She has been staring at the tent ceiling for, in her estimation, two hours and twenty minutes.
“Baby, it’s still dark. Close your eyes,” Joe mumbles into Amanda’s hair.
Amanda resolves to count to 600 silently, and then try again.