50
Chloe
The road blurs in front of my eyes for the umpteenth time, and I jerkily wipe at the wetness on my cheeks. I don’t know why I can’t stop the tears from coming, why my chest aches like I’ve just lost Mom all over again. The banana I picked up at a gas station is lying on the passenger seat, half-eaten, and though it’s the only food I’ve had today, the thought of taking another bite makes me want to vomit.
I’m driving blindly again, heading nowhere. I must’ve been in shock for the first couple of hours because I can barely recall how I got here. I know I filled up the car somewhere, because the fuel gauge shows the tank is full, but I have only a vague recollection of walking into a dingy store and paying. The banana came from there, I’m sure—I grabbed it on autopilot—but I don’t
