Chapter 43 - The Shadow on the HighwayOn a brisk morning in late October, while driving back from a corporate board meeting downtown, my car was stopped briefly at a red light near the industrial outskirts of the city.
As I waited for the light to change, my eyes drifted toward the dreary bus stop across the street. Standing near the shelter, wearing a faded, oversized work jacket and clutching a plastic grocery bag, was Mark.
He looked older, weathered by heavy manual labor, his hair entirely gray and his posture permanently slouched. For a brief second, our eyes met through the windshield of my luxury executive car.
Mark froze. He recognized the car, and he recognized me.
A wave of profound, agonizing regret flashed across his hollow face. He took a half-step toward the street as if he wanted to approach, to raise a hand, or to utter a final plea for mercy.
The traffic light clicked green.
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I didn't flinch. I didn't slow down, nor did I look away in anger. I simply pressed gently down on the accelerator, driving straight ahead into the bright, open lanes of the highway, leaving the ghost of my past far behind in the dust.
Mark stood on the curb, his arm slowly dropping to his side as my car vanished into the streaming traffic, swallowed entirely by the city he had failed to conquer.
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