No Forwarding Address

Jerry comes around the corner.  He is dragging a large, black trash bag. He struggles with the burden. He strains while the over-filled bag drags and catches on the gravel of the driveway.

 Finally, he reaches the trunk of the Pontiac. He rests his hands on the trunk for a moment; breathing hard. His breath comes out and mixes with the cold, crisp morning.

He reaches into his pocket, scrabbles the Pontiac keys out. It’s finally over, he thinks as he punches his key into the trunk’s keyhole. Jerry wrestles the heavy bag into the trunk, adjusts it, and slams the trunk firmly shut. 

Jerry slowly looks around.  Seeing nothing out of the ordinary, he strides forward, opens the driver’ side door, slides in, again slams the door shut, and stabs the key into the ignition.  FREEDOM, he whispers to himself with a sigh of relief as he turns the ignition key.

The Pontiac stereo comes alive. “Highway to Hell” blasts from the speakers as Jerry pulls out of the driveway and leaves town.