With a gas can in one hand and a lit match in the other I left my hometown eight years ago and never looked back. For thirty three years I lived in the same county and there was a bad memory on every corner. I left in the wee hours of the morning and cried for the first 100 miles then I cranked up my radio and drove until I couldn’t keep my eyes open any longer. I traveled alone on the road to a new start in North Carolina, just a shell of a person hanging on by a thread.
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