This week's prompt is "What if I just kept driving?"
Sheila drove into tomorrow.
It was much easier than she thought it would be.
Her present was purgatory. Maybe if it was just hell, she would've stayed. Hell was bearable. It had borders. It had form. It had shadows in which she could find relief. But, purgatory. Damn. Purgatory. Such wishy-washiness. Such enabling. Such obscenity of humanity. There she said it. She lit a match to it all.
Sheila looked over the desert floor, warming with each second of the rising sun bursting itself into the new day.