Mark

"Just keep driving."

My voice was a croak, barely audible over the hum of the engine.

"Sir?" the driver asked, his eyes meeting mine in the rearview mirror. "We’ve circled Central Park three times. Do you have a destination in mind?"

"I said keep driving!" I snapped, the anger flaring up and dying just as quickly, leaving me hollow. "Drive until the gas runs out. I don't care."

The driver nodded silently and merged back into the grey, slushy traffic of midtown Manhattan.

I slumped against the cold leather of the backseat, staring out the tinted window. The city passed by in a blur of steel and concrete, a...