Backroads
Preface: Third part of something I wrote during a very emotional part of my life. The other two parts are way too personal to publish. Maybe one day, but probably not. Running away is so easy. He never thought about it before. Under the blanket of nighttime sky, he drove, the frigid fall winds blowing all throughout his car; colder still from the morning’s rain. Country backroads, dotted with farmhouses and the occasional one-street town, tall grass flowing in the wind, swaying back and forth to the beat of life. Nobody saw him in any of these places. He could have been the only person for miles or for feet, and he never would have been able to tell the difference. The trees smeared beyond the open windows of the car, blurry in the setting sun. Beyond them laid darkness, with the faint glimpse of some house or rusty vehicle in between the branches with no leaves. His tires slid a little on the wet leaves on his side of the road. The few ...