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The Destination

The road stretched endlessly before me, winding away into oblivion. My fingers tightened on the wheel, relaxed, and tightened. On. Off. Yes. No. Live. Die. I had to keep going. I didn’t know where, only that I had to keep my foot on the gas, had to keep moving. That was the only constant I had left, the seam the held me together. I was certain that if I hit the breaks now, I’d fall apart and there’d be guts all over the interior.


So I left my foot right where it was.


A blur of green filled the windows to either side of me, racing against me, speeding up and falling back just like my heart. I kept my eyes trained on the way before me, resisting the urge to glance up at the rearview mirror.


No looking back.


Keeping my mind trained on the present was much more difficult. The car’s air vents blasted me full in the face; it was so cold. But my cheeks burned hot, and my eyes were brimming with something warm and wet. I bit my lip to stop it from trembling, breathed deep and willed the tears down. They wouldn’t budge.


I was angry at myself because it was the one thing I promised I wouldn’t do, aside from going back. I’d wasted enough tears, and none of them would ever fix anything, would never repair what had been broken.


So I kept driving.





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