This is the 11th installment of a 100-day challenge to write a new vignette every morning.
It turns out you don’t need all that stuff you insisted you did. Shampoo? Redundant. Pillows? Superfluous. Towels? Who needs them?
I’m free now in my cage. These four cabin walls have brought me more peace than my penthouse ever did. I’m in nature, and I can think.
Life is slower now. I never knew it could be. Back on Wall Street, I felt like I was hurtling toward the end at an ever-increasing rate. I don’t feel that anymore. I’m floating.
I go into town once a month; any more than that and I could be recognized. Truthfully, I could be recognized even on those monthly trips. Last time, I looked at the general store’s bulletin board, and my face stared back at me. I ripped the poster down and shoved the wad of paper in my pocket. Maybe I should’ve run out of there then, but I needed more cans of soup.
I prefer to be alone, so I don’t mind the infrequency of these trips—and I love soup.
This is all temporary, anyway. I’ll be back on top again soon.
Miles Away 