a short story about driving back to a familiar intersection

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The Intersection

a short story about driving back to a familiar intersection



I drove off without looking back, vision blurred and head swimming.

I tried to focus on following the yellow lines away from town, but somewhere took a wrong turn back to the intersection. People had gathered. A gurney had been wheeled out.

I reversed, taking backstreets toward the highway, thinking of my daughter waiting at home in her pink sunhat. I rounded the corner and found myself back at the intersection. The crowd had grown. I recognized some of the faces watching me in the light of the sirens.

By the third time around, I understood. Each time, I drove away. Each time, the road brought me back. Each time, the interval was shorter, my world smaller.

Finally I pulled into the intersection and on each side I saw another street leading to another intersection leading to another street with my car in the middle, my drink-flushed face behind the wheel.

This is my world now: an intersection, a flashing siren, a pink sunhat lying in the road.

...


Short story written by Peter Chiykowski

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Story prompt taken from a photo by Ferdinand Stohr

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