"Thanks for the time traveling," Josh said as he slapped my hand through the open driver-side window.
I said it was a pleasure and reversed down the gravel driveway through the trees. The light played tricks on my eyes like a fuzzy soft drizzle of sunshine. They can't shake that faraway look.
Everything was distant in my mind, like I'd spent the last four days climbing down a hole inside myself and the present was a little peep-hole at the surface. It's a long climb back to the top. Back to the place where things take certain significance again, and it's not just eating and stretching and trimming and sleeping anymore. Such a vicious cycle that was. Soul sucking. Depraved. Maybe the city will make things real again.
That was the thought as I hugged Highway 9's twists and turns to the Pacific. To PCH and a gallop north. Cloud cover retook the coast around Davenport.
