Tread end

I remember seeing her for the first time, a timid expression on her face, hesitant and anxious, entering the class, hands gripping the straps of her school bag. Never did I ever imagine then that she will, one day, become a source of great misery to me. Memories of her, manufactured and real, have become a thorn in the flesh.

The tarmac is a soothing presence, with its long-winding turns and killer dividers. These dwarf dividers are assassins in the middle of the night, in the middle of the road, on a national highway. An indefinite stretch of empty roads lead to the next turnpike and, after that, more turnpikes. 

                                                                    
                                                                     - Hishiko Kohima (Balloon at the end of the tunnel)