Dangerous

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It's a dangerous thing, crawling into someone skin, letting your mind be taken over by another, losing yourself deep inside the chaotic stew of chemicals and electrical impulses that form thought.

Somebody else's thought.

Alien ideas.

Not your own.

Is it so easy to let yourself float away, drift lazily, carried by the tide that wetly lops on foreign soil, rise and fall, lapping and licking the edges of insanity?

* * *

Keller drove with a heavy foot, faster, faster, pushing the vintage automobile as he pushed himself. The mechanical miracle responded to the slightest feather touch of a finger on the steering wheel.

Left, right, then left again, keeping the monster in the center of his lane.

He was late, and it irked him to no end. He despised tardiness, thought it a lack of preparation, of proper planning, or at the very least, poor manners, and believed it a character flaw in anyone who did not practice punctuality with regularity.

But tonight, he was the one running behind. 

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