The horizon was hazy red and blue, approaching
dusk. I was not driving to, I was driving
from . And from was still not behind me.
He wasn't dead. Im sure of that. Wounded, for sure, but a axhandle will do that. I also knew that the law would not be involved because he was such a sombitch nobody would believe his side. But the truth was I had no reason to hit him. No good reason really. I was getting out of that one horse, two stoplight, empty can factory town anyhow, he just happened to be in the way.
Where was I going? If I got to the ocean would that be far enough? I was no Merriwether Lewis, for damnsure. Where was I going? How long had I be living from, working from, sleeping from my past- without a destination? I wanted a sign.
No, not that stupid- Motel 6 43 miles -billboard, a sign. Something significant and biblical. I squinted into the distance.
All I could think about was that stupid Disney movie I took my nephew to:
"Look harder... no, there ... look harder"
If this is where I was stuck for inspiration, well, things were definitely at a bad place. I got back in the car and just pointed it back onto the black line. If I didn't find the right place when I got there I would go north. Where were those damn Northern Lights when you need them?