The Peacock 1567

We are all lost for words. Even Carl. Erik occupies the back seat. He stares down at his lap, his phone unattended on the seat next to him. I am rather enjoying this silence, though I imagine we are all in some collective state of shock. The evening sun slowly lowers itself over the muddy listless waters of the Fraser, for a few moments making the tepid waves into something glorious from its reflected light. i have twice almost suggested that we stop somewhere for a bite to eat, but my tongue remains paralysed in my mouth. Just as well. Home we go...