fleeting

after the man left the cafe and his memories behind he drove along an empty road curving up towards the mountains. on the top he could see white snow and the scent of pine seeped into the horizon. sometimes the man just has to disappear like that. he thinks it's got something to do with his being a man. a primal instinct. driving him away from the things he loves so that he doesn't hurt them. escaping the fists. the contorted face. the tense jugular. all these things he sees in the mirror and doesn't want to be him but knows it is. it's stupid, of course. you're always the only person you can't run away from. who said that? some clever clogs. clever clogs. clever. clogs. she would've said that. some clever clogs. a smile spreads across the man's face and he pushes on. upwards. dreaming already of the drive back.