107 words: Road Trip

If I never went back to the city, I probably wouldn’t care. There was nothing there anyways. Just the summer smoke and the constant sounds. I also had the strange feeling that I had been there for eternity; It was gut like, a sliver of soul truth.
Empty roads made me feel better. Especially when it was dark. Headlights only showed a bit of the world at a time, small parts that made up this colossal, beautiful whole. I counted white lines until the numbers blurred together. I followed guard rails, old friends. And the tire tracks –¬†remnants of past cars long gone – just black, rubber memories.

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