He drives down the lonesome road, just as he has always done for as long as he could remember. Another night, he thinks despondently. Time has flown by, and yet it seems like he's done nothing. With the radio turned off, he listens to the thoughts swirling around in his mind.
These thoughts are moving so fast that it is nearly impossible to keep them long enough to evaluate them. But one thought keeps recurring: the green highway signs are melting, sagging to the point that tractor trailers have to move to another lane to avoid hitting them.
So he travels down this lonesome road, dying to be freed from the pain he feels inside. Tonight he takes the road he's less travelled. Ordinarily he takes life in the fast lane, barreling at high speeds, eager to reach his destination. Tonight, however, he takes the slow road, in a desperate attempt to gather his thoughts.
Since he's traveled the lonesome road for as long as he can remember, he does not worry about losing his way. His autopilot is engaged; he will reach his destination. But when?
The burning pain in his head and neck grows more intense. He reaches back to rub the affectd area but to no avail. So he starts to pinch it and punch it. No change.
The pain has begun to creep up the back of his head, as though a fluid was about to engulf his head. He tries not to panic, but it becomes so intense that he reaches for his knife. With one hand on the wheel and the other holding the knife, he begins to cut into his neck. He cuts to remove the affected parts of his neck, plucking them out onto the passenger seat.
Suddenly... he loses consciousness...
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