The young woman drove her red compact sedan as she had done for nearly every weekday for the past five years.  The car zipped along wooded backroads in the morning hours and passed through various small towns.  Coffee steam rose quietly through a small hole in her steel mug and quickly vanished in the breeze from her open sunroof.

                She suddenly realized that she didn’t remember her trip so far or how she got here, as tends to happen when performing such a repetitive task.  She shook her head briefly and flipped on the radio to hear Radiohead’s Fake Plastic Trees.  The rolling hills of Pennsylvania undulated under the asphalt as her car lifted and sank.

The town approached and she saw typical construction, which narrowed her path to one lane.  Her phone vibrated as she slowed down near the construction worker who waved for her to STOP.  She watched as he wiped his nose with one hand.  He seemed to have been sick every day this week.  She lifted up the phone, saw it was her boss and threw the phone back in her purse in disgust.  It’s only 7:30AM for God’s sake!

She re-checked her surroundings and found that the worker was now waving her through and the driver behind her was just about to be impatient.  She looked to the SLOW warning sign, flipped on her left turn signal and went to pick up a coffee.  As she drove on, the whole of reality began to fade.