I hailed a ride from the back of the mission, headed to the north. It was a warm, still night. As we drove the moon rose up and sat upon the road. I felt I did what’s right. Driving towards that light, I felt I was alive.
The driver spoke about his troubles, I listened dutifully as we sailed through the night. In this car, I’m what I want to be; I have no history. I chose to do what’s right. Leave in the middle of the night. I headed to the north. I chose to do what’s right. Committed to the north.