Run

The romanticized version of snow on the hills, freshly fallen and glistening had been ruined at best, a month ago. Slush and salt had taken over now, being tossed up onto windshields and the flashy underfinish of the cars. Grey mornings gave way to barely noticeable warmth. 

It was lunchtime and I felt compelled to run for my life. The acceleration fueled my escapism as I tried for the 15 mile mark. The midwinter chill was unshakeable at 25 degrees but, as if in clear defiance, I slid back the moonroof and bolstered myself against the intruding air. It was as though I cared not for the wind-chilled arms I knew I was inviting. Oh, surely I would later, but now was my escape, my freedom. 

The wind played with the ever-present menagerie of papers strewn across the back seat. The drive to the highway wasn't nearly enough, but it was a quick fix; something that no one could deny me. A short break from being surrounded by books, at school and at work. Sun in my eyes, asphalt dashing under the tires... Once more it was confirmed that my rebellion was correct and good, with that most perfect song on the radio making it clear that this sojourn was saving me from all that was evil in the world. The 20 miles came and went too fast, but at 80 miles an hour, most everything does. Yet, it seemed the world was in perfect agreement. Being one with this primal urge had set a weight on the balance, and at least for a few fleeting moments, restored all the wrongs in my universe. 

To form a more perfect moment would be impossible. A soul that called night and day to be set free, with only the obligation to fill the gas tank and stop to enjoy God's magnificent works, had finally had a taste of what it needed to breathe easy. Almost as obvious to those who know me, as an addict to a counselor, my yearning for that wide, welcoming stretch of paved justice was -and is- insatiable. I'm sure that if the other drivers had bothered to look a little longer, they'd have seen a soul who was indeed sublimely happy. 

No more shifting, no stopping, just the subtle acceleration of a lead foot, an ever-loosening grip on the wheel and a deafening peace screaming from the speakers. 

To be one with the machinery that was my partner in crime felt... exquisite. Like the first bite of food after a fast. I debated a phonecall and a lie so that I could prolong my escape from reality; a quick stop at a payphone --untraceable by the supervisor-- and I'd be back on my way. It seems, however, to be too painful to stop the car just to make an excuse. Too much time lost to the cruel reality of work and responsibility. I couldn't stop. Even if I had, I'd be in for it tomorrow. No, best just to turn around and be a few minutes late back from lunch. 

Turn I did, and put myself back toward the straight and narrow. Enjoying the last fleeting moments before my indirect imprisonment proved difficult. The speed-induced breeze seemed only cold now, instead of exhilarating as it had been just a moment before. How could it have changed with my direction? I was still driving, still on the same road. Now, though, I knew where I was headed and no longer was I wild. 

The moment was gone. I was speeding not to get away, but to get back before anyone would notice that I'd been gone just a bit too long. 

The parking lot seemed a threat, the door a gaping maw, bent on consuming my free will in order that I do my thankless job with a thankful smile. 

No one had noticed my tardiness, except the books -who leered at me from their shelves- silent witnesses to my downtrodden hope for freedom. 

Sadistic bastards, these books. Dust has collected on some, though not on most. None would see the light of the outer office if it weren't for me. They can smell the fresh air on me, but here I am, back to take them down and put them back, just like yesterday. Just like tomorrow. 

Still, there's always the next lunch break, and the next, where I can gulp air devoid of must and mold. When I can run away for another hour. Maybe next time I'll stop and use the payphone off of exit 92 and just listen to the world exhale.