The moment you climbed out of the car, you tried to climb right back in.
Like a crab in a shell, I thought.
But something prevented you.
The anxiety of crowds, of noise . . . And now the Universe insists you make that bargain, pay your share. Its hands hold you fast. There is no escaping.
Bright lights, and the only open road is the one between us. I am the toll, your luck, the key to the gates that seek to cage you. I will be what draws you out and also what shelters you—your new shell.