DC Metro

There was a familiarity in the discomfort of the DC Metro, in the reek of cigarettes and grime; while always unpleasant, it was such a normal part of her day-to-day life that she rarely even thought about it. That evening, though, something had changed in her. 

   Her job in the city was far from bad. She was a higher-up in her sales firm, and she made good enough numbers to be allowed the luxury of a private office. She had an hour for lunch each day, and her front yard was the National Mall: every afternoon was a different food truck to try, a new taste to explore. Her coworkers weren’t close, but they were certainly friendly. In short, she had nothing to complain about. 

   But something was still missing. That small piece of her that wanted more refused to be muted, and it tugged at her chest every time she felt that twinge of uncertainty. It tugged at times like now. 

   She sat at the window seat of the Metro train, people crowded into her too close while on their commute home. The pungent scent of too-expensive cologne stung her nostrils. She stared outdoors, and was met with only concrete spanning every direction. It was uncomfortable, but more than that, it was just unbearable. The chorus of business calls rang through her ears, a symphony of maturity that she didn’t want to face. She was a successful adult. It didn’t matter.

   Sitting on that train, she knew that if she had to go back the next day and sit in her dainty little office, making sales calls for the rest of her life, she wouldn’t live a life at all.

   It didn’t matter what the next stop was. She was off, out of her seat, running like she hadn’t in years across the platform. Her heels protested as she scampered down the stairs, but she paid them no mind, continuing her sprint until she was free of the station. 

   She didn’t know where she was, but she still had her phone, tucked away in her purse. The clean black screen was steered into a ride app, and after a few minutes of tortuous waiting, her cab had arrived. It was a quant little thing, a silver sedan with chipping paint and more than a few years on its tires, but she hopped in right away without a second thought. 

   The man in the front seat was burly; he was bald, with deep tan skin and the wisps of a brown beard dotting his jaw. Wire-rimmed glasses adorned his face, and they were windows to honey-brown eyes, dragged down by purple eye bags. 

   “Where to, miss?”

   And suddenly she paused.

   What was she doing? Running away, like a little girl playing hide and seek? She had a career. Coworkers. A boss. An office of her own, and the top sales numbers of her company. 

   She had no business playing runaway. She had business selling insurance. 

   It was stable. The salary was good. She got her food truck lunches every weekday. 

   But somehow, she knew that wasn’t enough. Stability had turned into monotony; maturity had regressed into boredom. Her coworkers were pleasant, her job was well-paying, but she couldn’t possibly have felt less satisfied. 

   So she met the man’s eyes in the rearview mirror, and firmly answered, “away from here.” He rose an eyebrow. 

   “I need a destination, ma’am.”

   “Out of the city,” she replied. His eye twitched. 

   “I need a definitive stopping place, or I can’t take you anywhere.”

   She pulled her purse onto her lap. She rummaged around in it for a moment, then pulled last week’s sales bonus out of her wallet. 

   With a confidence she didn’t feel, she slapped the cash into his hand. 

   “Drive.”

   And so he did. She stared out of the window, just like she had on the train, but now she watched asphalt turn to grass turn to forest. The sky moved from a smoggy gray, to blue, to a brilliant palette of orange and red. The concrete jungle she had made a home in was long behind her. And she smiled.

   For once, she was staring out the window going somewhere, and she didn’t feel regret. 

   The man drove her for hours, far enough from the city that she wasn’t even certain she was still in the state. Flat urban blocks started to stretch and morph into rolling hills, and soon, the landscape around her looked like a Bob Ross painting. Mountains stretched into the sky, piercing sunset gold. Seas of waving grass seemed to beckon her, welcoming her to their home. Flowers dotted the field like Easter eggs, each a vibrant burst of color hidden in the pasture. That piece of her panged. And she knew that this was where she had to be. 

   “Stop,” she commanded, “stop right here,” and the car came to a screeching halt. 

   “Here?” asked the driver. His voice was high and confused. “Miss, this isn’t near anything at all. Are you sure this is where I leave you?”

   “Yes, I’m sure,” she answered, and somehow, she wasn’t lying. She had never felt so sure of something in her life. No worms of doubt twisted through her head, no twinges of uncertainty filled her chest. She was positive. 

   This was where she had to be. 

   She left the car with only her purse in hand, and watched as it sped away, motor puttering out as if tired. She watched it rise and dip through the hills the road sat over, and finally, she couldn’t see it any longer. 

   She turned her gaze towards her surroundings. 

   It was an ocean of color, a sparkling landscape of hues only seen on a canvas. The greenery was everywhere; above her, below her, all around her, as if holding her in its embrace. With shaking fingers, she reached down and peeled off the straps of her stiletto heels. She pulled her feet out of them, and dropped them beside her. And she stood in the dirt, and took it all in. 

   She wasn’t familiar with this at all. 

   It didn’t matter.

    She felt at home.