He rolled both of the windows down in his tiny two-door sports car, letting the crisp autumn air whip through his hair and beat against his skin. His loose calculus notes fluttered in circles before flying away, settling peacefully in a little trail on the road behind him as he traveled. Driving on his favorite two-lane country backroad, he pushed the pedal down intensely on straightaways, letting up a tiny bit as he approached those amazing curves that the car hugged so gracefully. He glided smoothly around the bends, barely considered stop signs, drove to make himself happy, and to make himself forget. He had possibly had the worst morning in the modern history of mornings, and it was made that much worse because he brought it upon himself.