Drive

 John drove on the highway. The road was hard, but John didn't feel it. He was in his car. The car's tires hummed along the pavement and he hummed along with the humming. He drove for 13.7 miles on the highway before veering off, taking an exit onto another highway. The new highway was the same as the old highway, except it took John in a different direction. This highway went through a city. And so did John. At a traffic signal, John stopped. He watched the other cars pass in front of his, going perpendicular to him. They didn't look at him. The light changed, and he took his foot off the brake and placed it on the accelerator. The speed limit was 55 miles per hour. John went 60.

 There were signs along the highway with green background like the kind actors stood in front of when they wanted to fill in the background later with computers. These signs told John where to go and where he wasn't going. There were other signs with other types of information. John read some of them. He looked at the gauges of his car which told him things about the car, like how fast he was going and how much gas it had. He had enough gas. John was not listening to the radio and he did not have the windows rolled down and he wasn't thinking about anything in particular.

 The road remained hard no matter where John drove, through mountain passes or suburbs. The texture of the street was fairly consistent, and upon them he drove and drove. He turned left, making movements with his arms and his hands upon the steering wheel. He yielded at yield signs. He drove because that was his assignment in life and it was what he could do. His eyes and legs would become fatigued, and the gas gauge would indicate that his tank was empty. But he drove on.