There was sunlight skipping off the road, reflecting off of other cars, making it hard for me to know which way I was flying by. If not for focus, there's no telling where I would land. Maybe I wouldn't land at all but instead continue sailing into the sun, into the light that burns holes where my eyes used to be. I wonder how it would feel to burn up while on the way to something with mundane importance. One moment you could be full of purpose and then in the next, you are nothing more than a busy memory.