You’re
on your way home one evening, and the freeway is empty. It's that strange time
between day and night when everything is amber-coated, trapping you in it’s
strange, orange world. You feel hungry or dizzy, like you're rushing through
your head. The car veers to the left onto a new road; or, weren’t you here once
before? It pulls you along, and the city lights die. You imagine your Sunday
school god at a console, slowly turning the dials, the curtain lifting on a new
world. Then, everything is black, except for the eyes of little animals,
sending you signals that you follow, implicitly. The gas gauge says empty. The
speedometer says zero. You stomp on the pedal with both feet. The steering
wheel spins in your hands like a toy. You let go. Years go by. You stop in a
clearing. A deer appears a few yards away. The car is slung into space like
spear. Then she is beside you, eating your old life right out of your hands.
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