The Faded Road
The rain is not falling, it is arriving, a thick, gray curtain that pulls down over the windshield until the world outside is nothing but a smear of wet asphalt and the occasional, blinding flash of a taillight, and you are driving, God, you are driving, with your hands shaking so badly on the wheel that you keep checking the rearview mirror to make sure you are still alive, still here, still...
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