24

You drive through the silent streets of the city, its chrome bright, taunting. You don't turn on autodrive, choosing instead to control the vehicle yourself. That way you can at least control something. Still.

That's not nothing.

Your hands steer your car through familiar streets, turning familiar corners. The city is a collage of your memories. Some, you recall with fondness. Others, not so much.

Then, you arrive. Work has not been good for a while, but what else is there for you to do?

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