I am flying into the pitch-black darkness of this night.

Only the nearly fool moon illuminates this night.

The temptation is screaming once again to test the implication of the speedometer that this vehicle can drive at speeds of 160 miles per hour. Dare I try this? Would it give you a fright?

The odds are slim; most likely, I would only anger you and cause a fight.

I seek not to destroy myself this night, but life as of late lacks a certain thrill. Perhaps I should reignite the fire this night?

I fly into the sanctity of this night absent of all fright.

Shall I let go and punch the accelerator to the floor? Test that theory about this vehicle‘s capability of achieving a speed of 160 miles per hour. Full throttle wide open, I jettison into this pitch-black open highway and roll the dice or my car this night.

I have felt like this on many a night as I roam and rip through this stretch of highway whilst most are sleeping cozy in their bed covers wrapped around them tight.

Let’s try it. I have pushed it to plus 90 miles per hour. And nothing happened that night.

The loneliness is blinding, like the flashing red and blue light.

All I have to do is resist, and then, as the officers discharge their sidearms, I will leave this world in one final, blinding flash of light.

Good night.

All Rights Reserved - Lynne Taylor / AutumnWolfPublishing 2023.