Dark. It was always dark. No stars in the sky. The moon did not shine. Just pitch black night. Like every night. He could not see in front of him. He never could.

The old man had walked down this highway several times in his life. As a boy he used to run on its asphalt, slapping the green leaves of trees that hanged over the shoulder. He used to pretend the limbs were hands of fans giving him high-fives as he streaked to the finish line. Those same trees were there, but, winter’s coldness had left them naked. Just brown sticks awaiting spring.

As a young man, he took this road out of town. Leaving behind family, a mom and a dad, a small town future. He wanted to explore. Go out into the world and try his luck.

He went everywhere; Chicago, New York, Philadelphia. Headed out west to Phoenix, Indigo, Los Angeles. He never struck it rich. Barely made enough to get by. Freedom is expensive.

Never met a girl. Never settled down. Just traveled the country. In search of nothing, but, himself. Always looking in. Always.

And now he wanted to travel down the road again. Relive youth. Maybe pick up on some cues he never saw before. Maybe just stir up old memories, old ghosts. He wasn’t sure. He just walked.

Dark. It was always dark.