Outta Gas

It was a good run. He gave all he could and tried his best not to ask for anything in return. And that is what he got back. Nothing. It wasn't their fault, more the way people are right now. They just don't seem to get it and take and take and take. Oh well, so be it. He was scraped so raw and empty that there was nothing left to draw on, not even fumes. He was the bug in this life, not the windshield, and windshields ruled the world. He was the target in the cross hairs. Maybe next time around he would get it right and save something for the days that went so dark he couldn't remember where it was he wanted to go.