Misc.

The Old Man and the Winding Road

He didn't think it was possible to get bored of colour.

He didn't think it was possible to get bored of the colour, yet here he was, driving, along an empty road surrounded by trees, bright with crimson and scarlet. The sunlight gleamed through the forest and shone in his eyes, illuminating the soft brown gaze, partially focused on the road, and partially focused somewhere else. 

He thought. He found himself doing that a lot these days. He would find himself staring at his work and suddenly it happened, he was gone. Physically, he would still be present, but mentally? Not even a glimmer. He became so absorbed in his thoughts he would zone back in realizing he'd lost hours. 

And that's how it happened. One day he woke up and impulsively, packed a bag and left. 

He didn't know why, he didn't know how, but it just happened, and here he was, two days later, driving somewhere in Vermont, going who knows where. 

As his hands made sure the car stayed in control, his line of thinking did not. It was racing, a million miles an hour. What was he doing? Where was he going? Why was he going? Would he ever come back? Did he want to go back? He didn't want to but surely such a nomadic lifestyle was unsustainable, and if he did go back what would he do? He didn't think to leave a note, he just left. Would there be bills waiting for him? Maybe he'd gotten fired and now he was in absolute debt. Was this ever a good idea? Why had he even gone? This was so pointless. He should just turn the car around and go home. Was there a point to anything? What was he-

His foot slammed on the breaks. 

Hard. 

He made a noise and shifted foreward, his head jerking back and snapping him out of his daze. 

He blinked and took a second to recuperate. What had happened? 

Then, under a yellow sign he saw the old man. Just, standing there. Watching? Waiting? He didn't reckon he'd ever find out. Rolling down his window he called out to the old one.

"Hey!"

"Hello!" the old man said, with a joyful undertone. "Thank you for stopping! I've been waiting for ages."

"I'm sorry?" the younger man replied, confused. He didn't feel threatened by any means, just taken aback. It wasn't every day an old man stopped you on an abandoned road, while you're in the middle on an existential crisis.

"I'm heading up North and I was wondering if I could ride with you." the old man said, still, complete kindness, no harm intended.

The young man caught his breath and looked at the other out of his window.

"I- yes! Yeah for sure, hop in." he nodded, nudging to the empty passenger seat. The old man smiled warmly and went to the other side, sitting down. The young man held out his hand.

"Neil. Uh-  Turner."

"Neil. Nice to meet you son." the old man shook his hands, smiling again. He had these very blue eyes that stirred something deep inside Neil. The way the sun hit him, as it continued to slowly sink below the horizon, gave almost an ethereal aura to the man. He wore a worn brown hiking jacket, with a cream fishermans sweater underneath it, jeans that had definitely seen better days, and ancient hiking boots, covered with dirt and mud, and the aglets were completely worn away. He had a cane, that he held comfortably between his legs, resting his hands atop it. What made him curious though, was his sheer lack of supplies. He bore nothing, only a faded silver wristwatch and a compass that hung from the breastpocket of his coat. 

"What's your name?" Neil asked, skeptical, but still not uncomfortable.

"Isn't the weather beautiful today?" the man asked softly, looking out the window, waiting to go.