87 Miles Per Hour
The glass is holding me back from a world speeding by, lights colliding into nothing but streaks of red and white, vehicles moving too quickly to make out; everything is a blur. The world outside is one I have experienced too harshly, and for the time being, I am thankful for the single pane of glass protecting me from it. I’m not sure where I’m going - the signs display names of cities I’ve never explored, never even heard of, the signs display no help whatsoever to me. So many thousands of miles above me, the sky let go and rain falls drop by drop onto the ground, dissolving into the highway, getting caught on the leaves so they glisten under the street lights, staining the window with fog that grows with every breath I take. This fog that forms on the window is heavy and blurs my vision even more, blurs the lights passing by and the vehicles almost racing with us. With a shaky finger, I clear a portion of the glass, revealing the world that has not changed since I last saw it. The car is silent, the radio is broken with wires sticking out and buttons chipped, the drivers mouth remains shut with answers and reassurance I need locked inside. The destination we are driving towards is one that I am not sure of, and I am also not sure if it’s better that I don’t know. I can only hope for the best, that I am going somewhere better, but for the time being, I am trapped, speeding at 87 miles per hour.
