Part I - The Insider

I sit on the stump of the recently-fallen tree, illuminated by the comfortable glow of the campfire. I've been moving cross-country for weeks now, and the grime smearing my clothes has grown on me to reflect my status as a vagabond. It's been so long, I can hardly recall when I started my involuntary journey. The choice came to me after some unfortunate coincidences I discovered throughout the course of my life. Connections upon connections linking themselves together in my mind just bore too great for me to withstand, so I packed lightly and headed out the door. I couldn't tolerate the idea that I never noticed them until now. I abandoned everything I've ever had in exchange for this vagabond lifestyle, being the only reasonable choice I had to get away from what I learned. I look up at the sky, and tonight's full moon looks back at me.

When not traveling through woodlands, I'd come across civilization and scrounge up whatever sustenance I can get my hands on. Dumpsters became my go-to for dinner when my already shorted supply of money ran too thin. Once I've had my stuff stolen already, as I was too careless with my sleeping arrangement and led to free reign on whoever happened to stumble across me as I was sleeping. This nearly never happens, as I typically choose the woods or other incognito camping spots, but one time is all it takes to break apart so much progress, and one time is the only time you need to learn that it's a mistake you can't afford to make.

The moonlight shined through the twisting trees and pierced the heart of the ever-present, growing manifestation of punishment growing near. Surely the campfire's glow would warn others of my presence, and I'm not keen on overstaying my welcome. I waded and trampled through the autumn leaves of the forest. I was never much of a hiking person, but when life clamps its jaws down on you, you better break free of it fast or it'll chew you up and break you apart without hesitating. Tall grass, spread out across the tree-littered landscape, weighs me down and impedes my movement for quite some time. This is relieved by the cracking of the asphalt, the small rocks and pebbles giving way to my boots. For as long as I've walked on dirt and grass, I've come to loathe the few moments I've come to walk on asphalt. Any kind of significantly solid ground wears you down fast, and there's no cover on the road, besides the cover of darkness, to retreat into.

As soon as this thought passes my mind, a light shines on me. Rather then being some kind of intervention like I had assumed, it was the shining eyes of a two-doored truck. One of the door's windows rolls down and I'm left staring in the face of an unfamiliar figure.

"You look lost. Need a ride?"

The words almost didn't strike me at first. I didn't believe the individual's intentions were valid, and in this moment I was convinced I was about to become the focal point of an awful tragedy. I was so enveloped in these thoughts, it took a few seconds to mumble a reply. "Sure."

"Alright, hop in."

I walked over to the opposite side of the truck and opened the door. Normally I'm the one driving, and I tend to be by myself, so being driven by an unknown individual is not something I would willingly do. However, in this situation, I feel that it's appropriate to take advantage of it and to get my bearings.

I climbed into the front seat of the vehicle. Comfortable, but I couldn't help but tense at the thought of what I was doing. Sure, using what could be a kind person's good deed to my own gain appeared flattering to me, but the looming threat of my past catching up to me, along with experience in being taken advantage of before, meant I had to stay vigilant for any threats. I examined the vehicle carefully to insure myself of any misdeeds before they could occur - leather interior, a stereo which presence loomed over me like the lens of a camera examining my every move and every function, and a cluttered, cramped backseat.

"Where were you headed? You looked lost out there."

I don't know where I was headed at this point. I shrugged and gave a general answer: away from here, maybe up the road. While it seemed as though he understood the implications and demands of this specific answer, the lack of vocal acknowledgement only disconnected me further from the humanity of this individual and I longed to get to a stopping point in order to leave the vehicle and continue my adventure through the darkness alone, with no guidance as I had been.

Did I scare this person? Was I not being friendly enough to them to warrant a response? Perhaps I had disturbed this person in such a way that they shared the fervor of anxiety I have? I didn't know, and the uncertainty made me fearful in it of itself. The flame in my chest only grew stronger as the drive pushed further and further, the only vision for quite a distance being a straight expanse of grey cleaved with yellow lines. I stared ahead. I wasn't going to engage with this person if they didn't wish to engage the same. And, like that, the staring continued, seconds blending into minutes, as I was unable to focus on anything else.

Maybe I could have stayed behind to rip these connections apart. I'm sure my family would have *loved* to hear about how my workplace subconsciously played games with me, leading me like a mouse to cheese in an attempt to get me to rip myself apart... I could have stayed behind to try, but who's to say they aren't involved as well? Twenty-two years, and I never saw the wires feeding the machine until it had already consumed me...

The unconscious is powerful. When the air is clear, your mind starts to drift away from the situation at hand. All I could think about now was the possibility of this person recognizing me and knowing my past, or recognizing me in the future, and the lingering burning feeling from the feeling is tearing me apart. Nevertheless, I stay focused on the road as if I was the one driving, blankly staring at the yellow blurs.

"So, what's your name? What's been happening?"

The words cut through me like a blade. I didn't expect this sudden intrusion of privacy so soon - we must have been driving for about fifteen or so minutes before these words were exchanged. Nevertheless, I indulged, taking care to not reveal my identity:

"Name's... Chase. Just some personal stuff, had to get away from it for a little while."

I don't feel bad for lying, I'd only know this person for as long as my hitchhiking went. The world's full of people, and surely I wouldn't run into this same person again and have them fault me for a wrong name... right?

He quickly replied back, "Yeah, I get it. I've had days like that, too."

Maybe this person wasn't as judgemental as I had assumed. Although I'm very wary of keeping my guard up, I don't think it would hurt to make the environment a bit more hospitable and be sociable, if this stranger permits it. There's not much in the way of distraction here otherwise, just a grey road and a lot of trees. I leaned forward to show my interest.

He continues, "Work's been a big pain for me. I try my best to help others, but it just isn't good enough for management for me to get ahead. I hardly take enough money home to feed myself, let alone anything else, why should I bother putting in extra time for nothing, you know?"

"Right."

I understood this person's struggle, and, in fact, can sympathize with it in a way. I felt the same way for some time, and was part of the catalyst for my long hike away from my struggles. I'm sure this is how most people deal with these issues - by complaining about them to others, as if anybody but themselves could fix their issues. Nevertheless, I felt a bit of relief knowing that, even without clarification, this stranger could sympathize with my cause.

After this interaction, we continued the silence. It left me some time to collect my thoughts (not that I haven't done enough of that already, being on foot for a substantial amount of time alone) and to contemplate my future options. Obviously, I couldn't be hitchhiking the whole way as it would draw too much attention to myself, giving others the opportunity to recognize me with distastrous results. I would most likely be departing from this person's presence soon, if the opportunity arises.

Thankfully, as I was thinking that, the opportunity did arise. I quickly glanced at the dashboard, and he must have saw it the same time I did: the fuel gauge, ticking closer and closer to empty.

"Well, I'm gonna have to stop off for gas soon. Up to you if you wanna keep going or not."

"Okay."

We came to a stop at a gas station as a temporary respite from the paved monotony. Finally, I thought to myself, an easy way out, and even the encouragement to - he must sense the urge in me. Maybe this stranger and I aren't as distant as I initially thought. I'd hate to leave the company of someone that might understand, but I can't stick around. He pulls the truck into one of the pumps and followed through with his previous intentions, exiting the vehicle and going into the station to put credit on the pump. Now's my chance. I opened the door of the truck, jumped out and started running. The thumping in the chest matched the stomps on the pavement as I quickly sprinted to the cover of the treeline. Once covered, I turned back around to discover that he wasn't even out of the store by the time I made it to woodlands. To him, I disappeared into the night as quickly as I emerged from it. I kept running.

After a few minutes, I stopped to sit down next to a trunk. It's dark enough out to where I can hardly see. I took quick bearing: a hill I managed to topple down pretty quickly as I ran across the road, then a few light bushes that I ran into, and out of, and a winding footpath through a few trees to get to where I sit now. Secluded enough to settle down for the night.

Alone, yet again, accompanied only by the creases and hills of my own mind.

I like it that way.

Part II - The Outsider

"Hey, you need to come in tomorrow. They'll be finished with the work by then, and we need you to make some changes to last week's report."

Great, the one thing I didn't want to hear. I was walking out of the office to go home for the day. Tomorrow is my day off, and I'd really like to spend it relaxing instead of at a screen. I work as what you'd consider an accountant - which is, to say, I sit in a chair and I look at a spreadsheet for hours until I go home. Sometimes, if I'm lucky, I get to look at writing a document instead of a spreadsheet. It's miserable, and the only way I can take home the kind of money I need is to constantly work overtime.

Whatever, I guess that's the way things have to be. I'm already out the door by the time they said the last few words, I already knew what they wanted me to do. I walk on down to my beat-up truck and get in. The only respite I get from this place, I feel, is when I'm driving from work - that is, when I'm not listening to the weird croaks and rattles of this hunk of junk. One of these days, I swear something's gonna fly off and I'm gonna really regret not spending my money on something reliable. "It was the best I could get," I say to myself constantly as I try to justify this ridiculous purchase.

All that was on my mind was getting home from work. Maybe I'd sit on the couch and get wasted with whatever cheapskate liquor I had left. It's just the typical route home, should be no hitches in that plan, right? They let me out early today, said that the office needed "renovation" or something and sent everybody home for the day. They don't do stuff like this often, so I reckon something bigger is at play there, but I'm not so sure. Regardless, I'm going home, and I won't have to worry about it until tomorrow.

I was driving home, taking the typical backwater route, and there's this weirdly active intersection I usually slow down for. So, I'm slowing down for that, and this guy - and don't ask me where he came from, cause God only knows - this guy walks out near the middle of the road. I nearly didn't see him before I started riding up on him, almost hit him. If the guy wanted to blend in at night, he picked the right clothes: pure black, from his pants to his shirt, hoodie as well. Completely covered in dirt and grime, looks like he hasn't washed anything in a while. So I stop and I ask the guy, you know, is he lost or something? With the guy's demeanor, it wouldn't hurt to reach my hand out and help the guy, right?

I also tell him, why not hop in and take a ride with me to wherever you need to get going? You may as well, I get a glimpse of the guy's face as he gets in and it looks like he's seen something that'll scar him for life. Thousand-yard stare kind of deal. I've read stories in the paper about people getting mugged and such by hitchhikers, I know it's dangerous to be picking up people I don't know, especially people that look like that, but I've got a gut feeling that maybe this guy just needs a helping hand. He could just be misunderstood. I'd personally feel a lot better helping out my fellow man than spending another few extra hours in the office doing unappreciated overtime just to try to appease some snobby exec. It's getting on my nerves.

He gets in, and he's eyeballing everything like he's never been in a car before. I don't get this guy, but, you know, maybe he hasn't, maybe he's a fanatic for cars, I'm not gonna judge him. My cousin's kind of like that, where he'll want to know every single detail of something before he uses it. Can't hardly drive anywhere without him asking you what kind of engine you've got in your car, this that and the other... I ask this guy where he's headed, and he doesn't really give me an answer. He just says "away from here" or something of the sort. I figure, "alright, well, this guy probably's got some issues, or he's tripping on some kind of drug." I'm not gonna judge the guy over it or anything, like I said, but it bothers me that he's not, you know, up front about it.

Oh, not to mention, this guy absolutely smells horrible. I mean, he looked ragged and I was kind of figuring, but the stench is seriously overpowering. This guy's definitely got something up with him, I figure, and maybe if I was lucky I'd be driving him to the showers or something. I ignore it for the time being. I don't try to be a judgemental person, I'm just here to help a fellow person in need out. It seems like that's what he needs.

I don't have anything to say for the moment, so I just stay quiet for a little while. Keeping my eyes on the road for the time being. You could no doubt feel the awkwardness here, and I'm not sure if it's because of me or him, but I'm sure it was not made much better by the stench and the severe contrast between my business casual appearance to his, I don't know, "earthy" appearance? At least it's something a little different from my daily drive home. I'm usually one to be upfront that this stuff is bothering me, but this guy's fiddling with his hands in his pockets and I'm pretty sure that if I did I'd be in some serious trouble. Nevertheless, I feel the need to talk to him, so I ask him what's going on, maybe it'd clue me in to why he's so dirty and disgusting. He says some personal stuff's bothering him. Finally, someone I can relate to for once. If I didn't have a half-decent job, I'd probably be running around trying to enjoy myself, too.

I can easily relate to having bad days. I think every person can, really, I think part of being a good friend is relating to each other with feelings. Not everything can go right every day, you know? That's what I'm thinking about as I'm driving, so I figure I'll let him know he isn't alone and divulge a little bit on what happened to me at work today. It was still fresh in my mind and it was getting on my nerves, and it always helps to get it out to someone. There aren't very many days where I don't think about all the wasted hours I could have spent, I don't know, maybe looking for a place that treats me better, maybe even a place that just pays me better. He seemed to get it. Maybe his personal problems had something to do with work, too.

So I keep driving, trying to keep my eye out for anything on the road. Animals are always running around at night, even had a few close calls before on this road, so I try to pay close attention so I don't end up hitting anything that'll make my crappy truck even more crappy. I keep seeing what looks like shining eyes in the forest, so I'm trying to focus in and make sure I'm not just seeing things. This helps the time go by a bit quicker, as the drive usually takes quite a while. I'd put the radio on to kill some time, but, like I said before, I really don't want to bother this person. I glance over for a split second and he's just staring blankly at the road, he seems pretty occupied with whatever's going on in his head as it is.

I take a glance at my gauges every once in a while, just in case. This time, I see that my fuel is sitting at around a quarter of a tank. I don't particularly trust a stranger to be sitting in my truck while I'm refueling, so I tell him, you know, give him that gentle nudge that he should probably get going soon, without being particularly hostile. I know there's a small gas station just up the road not too far from where I live, so I decide to pull off there and fill my tank up before I head home and repeat the monotony tomorrow. I park at a pump, and I head inside to put some cash in the pump. I keep an eye on him as I'm walking into the store, and he seems to be a little jittery, maybe contemplating on whether he wants to leave or not. I don't have anything worth taking in the vehicle, so I don't mind giving him the extra time to decide.

So I walk in the door, and I walk to the counter. I can see that the guy working there is showing the tell-tale sign of being sleep deprived, with the droopy eyes and complete lack of awareness. I recognize this person, too, he never gave me his name but I do know that he normally works day shift. Seems like work is bothering everybody today. I put the money down and tell him to put it on my pump. While I'm at it, I pull out some extra and point out some cigaretes behind him. Now I start to see why everybody drinks or smoke - in this day and age, you can't get anywhere without having some kind of vice.

"Tough day, huh? Seems like everyone's being bothered by work."

He takes a second or two to respond. "Yeah, this place kind of sucks, but it's the only choice I have right now."

I get it. As much as I'd love to sit back and not do anything, I have to put food on the table and be a functioning member of society at the end of the day, even if it would mean working at a gas station or working night shift. He takes a bit longer than usual to ring up my smokes, but that's alright, I don't really have anywhere else to be at the moment. I spend the time looking at the racks of junk food, the freezers in the back full of drinks, and all the other miscellaneous stuff you'd expect to find in a small shop like this.

Once he's done ringing me up, I grab my change and smokes and start heading out the door. It's a cold night, but I feel I enjoy the countryside far more when the leaves are falling. When I get to my truck, I notice that the interior lights are on and the stranger is gone. As I'm going around to the fuel cap to refuel, they shut off. It startles me a bit, as the sudden loss in light makes it a little tough for me to see.

In that time I'm spending putting fuel in, I'm recollecting the day's events. I went to work, like usual, and, unlike most days, I did something new and I picked up a stranger and learned a little about their life. It didn't take much out of me to do, and there's mutual benefit there - this guy gets to wherever he wanted to go, and I get to talk to someone that doesn't want me to edit a dozen spreadsheets as part of my overtime.

For as much as I complain, I've definitely got a lot to be happy about.