The Drive

I didn’t actually intend on getting out for a drive that day; it just sort of happened. Lost in thoughts and stories and dreams of a different life, I’d like to say I tried to stop, but I won’t lie.

Yes, I saw him.  He stood on the side of the road, arms in the air, telling me to slow down. I didn’t dare meet his gaze. Just a few miles up, again he stood, red-faced and angry. With a clenched fist he shouted, “Stop everything! Think about this! Don’t you go any farther!”

He told me turn around. He told me to take another route.  He pointed out a safer road, but I knew that road would only lead me back to him. Each time he appeared, my white-knuckled fingers gripped the steering wheel harder, and I drove faster.

I pressed hard on the pedal, and with each added bit of pressure, fewer signs appeared on the long, sustaining road, and the less I saw his face.

“This road is no good for you! It’ll never bring you back to me,” I could hear him say.  His head hung low. He knew defeat sat waiting at the next intersection.

My sharp gaze down the center white lines softened, and I saw clouds open to reveal a final exit sign. It was my last chance to turn around. So, I kept going.

One comment on “The Drive

  1. Anna Jauhola says:

    Compelling! This makes me want to know more. … like why was that guy trying to make the driver turn around? Did the driver know the guy? Enjoyed it very much.


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