Three lanes on either side stretch out before us, free and clear, with enormous green signs proclaiming the way to Boston sailing overhead. A throng of trees crowd the verge on either side, as if we're passing through thick forest.
All of the people that crowd every available square foot of space back in New York, standing on top of each other, stacking up into the sky, all of them have been left behind, and their absence echoes in my awareness like the sound of a vast, empty room.
Then I remember the cars all around me, filled with people and music and conversation and arguments and fast food and cigarette smoke and the eternal roar of engines, the eternal roll of road beneath their wheels, and I sigh; a single bird flies overhead in a flat gray sky.
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One year ago: Apocalypse Every Day
Two years ago: She Thought She Was Helping
Three years ago: Four
Four years ago: Ikea Builds Relationship
Eight years ago: Welcome To New York!
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