I’m driving down a lonely rural road. A raven flies across the harsh glare of the sun still low on the horizon.
I look forward to see something on the road ahead. As I get closer the form takes shape. It’s a rearview mirror.
Was someone trying to escape the past? Did they no longer want to see the terrible things said that made a friend cry, or the act of a loved one that broke their heart?
Maybe they were afraid of what was coming back to find them? Sometimes this can be the worst thing of all.