The hood of a truck swings wide, he props it open. “Not now!” His fist pounds on the aluminum body of a vintage blue pick up truck, echoing through the surrounding pine trees. “I swear this happens at the worst damn times”, mumbling to himself in frustration. After retrieving some rusted tools from the truck bed, he attempts a diagnosis. This happened from time to time, typical for a commuting beater. The wind whistles a high pitched tune while his head is buried in the engine block, something to fill the empty air he supposes. A serene moment indeed.

Thoughts of his destination begin to flood his brain with excitement. Disassembling and replacing used car parts starts to become a more intimate affair. Blonde flowing curls, hasty makeup, breasts peeking through a black, lacy corset, a dingy motel room with an open air plaza, rusted arm rails. A place to smoke cigarettes and grass after. His darkened smirk grows in anticipation.

Snowfall begins as flakes cover his navy blue beanie and windshield of the innate car. Lifting his head to brush his brow, the sound of cracking twigs gets his attention. There seems to be nothing in any direction beside an endless forest of dead trees and eternal evergreens, the truck, and himself. Before getting back to work a familiar feeling comes upon him, light as a feather at first but quickly progressing to something worth crushing Atlas himself.

Memories of his childhood start to overtake him. He would ask his Mother about this overwhelming feeling and she always said “someone, anyone, even God was thinking about him at that very moment.” The feeling is something he’s felt throughout his life, it’s associated with some of his most intimate memories. The funeral of his grandmother, skipping school to drop acid and drink warm beer, church every Sunday with his family, cheating on his wife with the Other.

The dry road is starting to be covered in powdery snow, quickly building up to over an inch, two inches, three and four. The feeling fades while he watches it all accumulate.

While the sun explodes into a red velvet sunset, washed with gold and burnt amber, the car stands dead in the barren snow-fallen forest. Becoming more desperate to get to his destination, he attempts to fix the truck, a few more things tightened along with an old battery swap. Even after this, nothing had changed.

By this time she’s gone home. Grabbed her faux-leather overcoat and left him a message from the motel room about 20 minutes ago. “Where the hell are you?” She sighed, “you promised.” This only made his defeat heavier, sinking even lower into himself as he accepts his loss. Sounds of boots crunching on snow bring him back to reality as he swiftly turns his head to nothing except the darkening woods. Frantically the man waves his flashlight to penetrate the palpable darkness that surrounded him, it was closing in on him.

The familiar feeling comes back. Who was it this time? My wife, the Other… Mother? This emotional whirlwind starts to take control of him, his life is spinning out in real time as the crushing vertigo forces him to the ground. What looks like reflective eyes in the woods stare into him; semi-green, reflective mirrors taking all of his focus. They stay steadfast and tenacious as the dervish in his mind rages on, not allowing to break eye contact. Reaching for the car door, the stillness of the mysterious eyes become stable and comforting as the storm is starts to calm around him. The door swings open and he forces himself inside, taking a moment to catch his breath. The eyes stay still, penetrating through the windshield like oncoming headlights. Keeping his eyes locked, he attempts to start the truck, no response. His mental hurricane slows to a mild wind storm, finally able to produce a coherent thought. The unnamed feeling still burdens him. Frustrated yet determined, he turns the key again to hear the engine almost come to life

Excitedly, he punches the roof in celebration and a wide smile fills the seat. His jubilee is cut short as the dashboard lights immediately fade and the engine slowly putters out. Accompanied by the feeling, he sits in silence, in his disgust for himself, in his love for his wife and family, in that feeling. Why do this to her? Why do this to the Other? Is this worth it? He can start to see his breath as the wide moon becomes a stage light for his soliloquy. Wind slams against the truck window, producing a piercing whistle, what almost sounds like “Go home.” He tries the key one more time.

The truck booms to life. Warm air starts to fill the cabinet as a sigh of relief releases. After a minute or so, the truck seemed to be stable enough to get home before she tucks the kids in. He pulls off and begins his journey home. A few miles down the road and the snow has only gotten worse, barely able to see in front of him. Suddenly, a large boom takes the man by surprise, causing the car to weave and spin out of control, crashing head first into a hearty oak trunk.

Golden rays of sunlight pierce his eyes as he wakes up, stuck with the feeling.