The pressure in my chest pushes out, hot and quick, fluttering in my ribs like the steam in a radiator. My face is red despite the air conditioner lapping at my cheeks. I want to drive for days, drive away from all of this, drive somewhere new, but it’s a red-light, and another, and another. My day, hacked off at the ends, hemorrhaging my life away while I sit, unmoving. In the distance, a neon clock hums away, its arms rolling forward, pushing on without me.