Driver
As she got older, the roads never seemed to change. If anything, they just became part of the background scrolling by as she went about her day. Adventure gave way to routine, ennui replaced excitement. It used to be that every little choice was part of an endless cascade of causality.
Sometimes she drives the streets aimlessly, not looking for anything, but looking at everything, hoping for an off-ramp to the life she used to have; where even turning a corner seemed like a life or death decision. She still remembers the day she turned right, and never looked back.
Sometimes she drives the streets aimlessly, not looking for anything, but looking at everything, hoping for an off-ramp to the life she used to have; where even turning a corner seemed like a life or death decision. She still remembers the day she turned right, and never looked back.