When she sat down in the cushioned seats, adjusted the mirrors and stuck the key in the ignition, she imagined freedom. This could become freedom. Just a small suitcase, filled with clothes she'd never wear at home, and the warmth and comfort of confidence seeping down into her bones.
The engine didn't start the first time, but the second turn of the key started the car shaking. Two quick looks down each side of the street, and a smooth pull-out later she was on her way.
She drove quickly. By the time the sun started dipping, she saw the rise of buildings, the girth of the city bloated around her. It didn't take long to find the center, people rushing in and out of bars and restaurants, the steady aroma of delicate dishes and hearty meats, chattering and hissing engines all busily unaware of her presence. It didn't take long to find a cheap hotel. A quick change of clothes later, and she strolled out the door, barely aware of the lock clicking into place.
She strode into a bar and took a stool. She had barely shifted into a comfortable stance before the bartender stood before her, tired eyes and exaggerated curve of the lips begging her to make her order - fast.
Two shots of whiskey later, and she was already deep in conversation with the man next to her. When he got called to dance by his girlfriend, another man quickly took his spot. Then a woman, then an old man whose white hair seemed translucent under the bar's dim light. Deep conversations, intense and honest.
She was anonymous, and no one recognized her. She could be confident. She could be anyone. She will never see anyone she meets at this bar ever again.
And then she goes home. Unsatisfied. She thinks, and can't let go. She thinks, but is afraid. Mind reeling, until it becomes like the screech of nails across a chalkboard, unbearable and impossible to block.
The only place for solace, a crowded room anonymous.
