Stretches on for miles. Goosebumps on my arms. The roads are empty; the surroundings, deceiving. Twenty minutes of the same, routine scenes – flat, monotonous, repetitive.
Grass. Fallen trees. Abandoned sites. Unopened, unwelcomed, unnoticed.
Cars flying by like viral beings on racetracks, going bumpity-bump on every crack; in five seconds they disappear from view again.
No signs of life until I reach the toll booth, where someone has a thankless job of pushing buttons and bringing up barriers.
I wave back.