Exile

This is how it ends.

With his pulse in his ears and his hands shaking on the wheel, his teeth chattering and sweat dripping down the back. A prayer and a memory, and a moment, frozen in time in his head.

Her hand closes around his…

This is how it ends.

He moves into the next gear, teeth gritted, road ahead of him and behind him. He moves a hand to the keyring, the last reminder; her scent and her voice and her laugh still haunt him. Tears blur his vision now, but he roughly wipes them away with an arm, keeping his eyes on the road.

This is how it ends.

He glances to the sky, dragging his eyes back to the road, and prays he’s going to get out of this one driving. He doesn’t even know where he’s going; he’s just driving, semi-aware, blind and yet seeing more than he ever has before.

This is how it ends.

He keeps driving, and the last remains of his hometown fade, dipping below the horizon. Someone beeps their horn, and he knows he must have done something wrong, but he’s barely aware, eyes on the road and hands at the wheel.

He drives.

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