TRAPPED

Brian didn’t want to go home just yet, but he had to get out of the office as soon as possible. He didn’t normally make a habit of leaving this early, nearly 40 minutes before the usual five o’clock, but he couldn’t stand being confined to his tiny workspace any longer. He’d stared at his flickering computer screen for long enough, listened to the high-pitched whine of the CPU for as long as he could stand, and now he had to get away from his cramped desk, with its unending paperwork and ceaselessly ringing phone.
Brian headed up the row of cubicles toward the hallway, relieved to see that the door of his supervisor’s office was closed, as usual. He hurried through the fluorescent-lit hallway into the stale recycled air of the lobby, pushing through the heavy double doors and out into the parking lot. It was a gorgeous, cloudless day, the hot summer sun still high in its slow descent, as he removed his tie and wiped his brow. He headed to his car, ready to get as far from work as possible, but at the same time not ready to go home to his wife and daughter.
Feeling a gentle hint of a warm breeze as he unlocked his door, Brian realized that it was a perfect afternoon for a walk in the park, but he didn’t feel like putting up with the joggers, frisbee players, and dog walkers that would undoubtedly already be there in droves. He didn’t want to stop at Mickey’s for a drink, knowing that the usual patrons would be there attempting to engage him in idle conversation. He didn’t feel like stopping at the bookstore, or picking up his shirt from the dry cleaners, or taking the car to get an oil change.
Brian didn’t want to see another person for the rest of the evening. He wanted to just drive, get out of the city, away from civilization entirely. He didn’t want to take the highway: there wouldn’t be anywhere to stop until he came to another city hours later. He didn’t want to take the back roads, either: they would take him through too many little towns. He wanted to get away from people, buildings, towns, and roads. He wanted to find a field he could walk through without passing a billboard. He wanted to find some woods that wouldn’t lead him under an overpass. He wanted to head into the open wilderness without the knowledge that he would eventually reach a fence or road or town on the other side.
Brian wanted to find a place like the the woods behind his house when he was eight. He had spent nearly his entire childhood in the trees, climbing new hills, discovering new hideouts, and forever finding new paths. He would go deep into the woods until his house was far from sight; always curious to see what was on the other side of the next rise. The trees stretched outward forever in every direction around him, with the thick tangled branches reaching for miles above his head. But all that was gone now; bulldozed and developed into another subdivision identical to his own.
Brian started the car and pulled around to the entrance of the parking lot, then stopped at the traffic light. He looked to the left, toward the highway, wondering if there was a section of the planet left that hadn’t yet been explored, claimed, and grided off into the inescapable network of human civilization. There was hardly any space left anywhere that didn’t show the presence of mankind in one way or another, be it unending urban expansion or boot prints in the desert sand. The light turned green, and Brian headed right, towards home.