The road back home feels lonelier. I’m not even sure that this road is leading me back home. Every moment that occurred after walking out Clara’s door has blurred in my mind. She had offered me a final kindness, asking if I wanted to crash on her couch, and head out the next day. I’m not sure excuse I gave, but I knew that I couldn’t stay.

I had already been driving for a long stretch of time before I realized that I had no idea which direction I was headed. When I had sat down in the car, it felt like the body sat a little lower on the suspension beneath the weight of eyes watching me. I was an interloper that had been rebuffed, and I’d overstayed my welcome. No time to plan routes or pick destinations, it was a physical need rooted in my mind that I had to move.

At night, all the roads look the same, so perhaps it doesn’t matter if I know where I’m going. It’s like existing in another world. I drove so long without seeing another car, that when headlights did roar past me in the night, my mind cobbled together images of a beast with blinding eyes.

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My body drove where it pleased, taking exits that led to winding country roads, that would pass through small towns that could have been deserted for all I knew. Yet, soon enough, I’d be back on the highway. I couldn’t even tell you which highway. Each time my attention dipped back into reality, there was another stretch of road, but no signs showing which road it was.

I could feel a twist in my gut when I saw a soft light enter the sky. As the sun began to rise, it brought with it an overwhelming wave of drowsiness that washed over me with the warmth of the first rays of sunshine. I pulled into a rest area, and turned the car off. To my surprise, I had been heading more or less in the direction of home, although that surprise did not make me feel any better.

It's likely that nothing would have improved my situation. My best effort was to recline my seat, shut my eyes, and feel my body at rest for the first time all night.