Member-only story
A Divergent Road
And the decision of her life
“Where am I going?” she mutters. Pulling up to the red stoplight, she compresses lightly down on the brake with her left foot, which slipped partly out of her Birkenstock, allowing the car to roll to a halt. In front of her, cars criss-cross back and forth, speeding off into the distance, carrying drivers to engage with their day, ready or not.
Leaving the house in a bit of a daze, she drives off more on automatic pilot than mindfully and aware of her surroundings.
Well, a fitful night lying awake more than sleeping followed by a breakfast of bitterness washed down with a shouting duel will leave anyone bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, she thinks. Sarcasm always helps ease the sting out of hurtful situations, even when she only speaks it to herself. Or at least that is how it seems to her.
Glancing around she lowers her head so she can look up at street signs. She realizes she has turned down the wrong road. “Just, where am I going?” she asks aloud, again. Only this time the question carries more weight to it.
What she really means is, “Where am I going in life?” But at this moment, she does not acknowledge the duality of this question.
Why did I turn down this road?
