The Road

Funny how the places blur in your mind just like the white lines on the highway. Just like the faces of so many people. The road doesn't care whether you take it or not. It's just there. What we do with it is our choice.

I had traveled three hundred miles by mid-afternoon, but I was still behind schedule thanks to my late start. At 3:00, when the asphalt seemed to float before my eyes, I pulled over at a small diner surrounded by emptiness.

The place was actually clean. The short-order cook glared knives as I walked in. I guess he didn't feel like cleaning up after one customer. No wonder the place was clean. I wondered how the owner stayed in business.

She entered when I was about halfway through my extra-greasy cheeseburger. She wasn't really a looker. Her face was too sharp for that. But she had an undeniable presence. She sat on the stool beside me and ordered a turkey sandwich and lemonade. She spoke before I could.

"Hot today, isn't it?" she said. I nodded. That's all she said. She got her lunch and drove away. And I followed her. I'm not sure why, except I think I heard hints of a strange, new world in her voice. That promise made me leave my comfortable life behind. Now, the cities and faces blur together, but she’s not anywhere. I have to keep looking, though. The white lines beckon on.