no bumping.

“This really is not necessary,” she said, matter of factly.
“I know,” he said, a statement of acceptance.
“I don’t need to be entertained.”
“Perhaps I do,” he responded, while badly wanting to believe her.

The car passed the lot next to a sprawling supermarket. It slowed down a little then accelerated and found its way to the road leading out of town.

“We’ll have time for the groceries on the way back,” he said and added, “Don’t worry,” and immediately felt deep regret.
“I’m not worrying,” she snapped
and he though ‘Course you’re not.’

Streetlights discontinued once the car had passed the last billboard. Industrial Piping Systems — No One Can Beat Our Prices! In the dark they didn’t see the desert but they knew it was there.

“Might not be open at all. It’s a weekday,” again, matter of factly.
“We’ll see. Soon as we get there.”
What followed might have been meaningful silence or simply time passing bereft of words. Was there anything either of them wanted to add to a failing exchange? You wouldn’t be able to tell if you were looking at them, their faces refusing to reveal. There was no music in the car, the radio was broken. Minutes passed, the two staring ahead, him dimly lit green, by the dash, up from the chest, she in almost complete darkness. Later, the car turned off onto a dirt road and stopped, the headlights blinding the woman in the ticket box next to the carousel.

“All five rides open,” he said and killed the engine.
“The Duck Pond game is not a ride.”

They considered the Ferris Wheel, but what’d be the point in admiring the view when there was no view because it was dark and you couldn’t see a thing. And even if you could it would be barren land all around with the occasional plywood shack.

They got two rides on the bumper cars for a single ticket, business was slow. There was only one other rider, a man in his 50’s. His face was familiar, someone from town, surely, but they couldn’t place him. He was hugging a brown paper bag on the seat and was repeatedly trying to bump his or her car head-on, despite the sign overhead in vibrant yellow on dark blue, reading “No bumping!” Every time the man managed to bump one of them hard he let off a cry, a shriek that might have signified pure joy or a desperate cry for absolution, it was hard to tell. After the ride was over the man nodded to them, and they looked away.

Before leaving the carnival the two of them had a beer at the food stand, standing up, in silence, the plastic cups wet and too cold to the touch.
Back at the supermarket they took the larger shopping cart. They had a long shopping list, he had it on his phone, she could not have been bothered.