The humming if the engine. The feeling of the steering wheel in my hand. The ideas. The wishes. The dreams. What I want is selfish freedom. The feeling of the Road passing by. To see this small towns limits and embrace the good bye of so many memories. To welcome the unknown. To just let life happen. Maybe I'd make it. Maybe I'd get caught. Who knows. I won't get to know. Not yet at least. Maybe he'd miss me. Maybe she would too. But that's wishful thinking. Yet, it's the only reason I turn of the truck and lean my head back.
"Not yet"
