Character Sketches are something I try to do as much as possible just to keep myself writing in attempt to maintain some discipline. This isn't really a character sketch, but rather more of a painted scene. I gave myself about 20 minutes and didn't worry about tense or anything grammatical.
Out the window everything was whooshing by making it difficult to slow my mind. Which was the point of this so-called excursion. Every lane, with their smeared painted lines, were clear, - which I found oddly peculiar as if I was missing something - but I chose a random exit hoping it would lead to some back roads. That's where I wanted to be. If not actually off the beaten path then at least having the illusion that I was. It wouldn't be wise with the current conditions of which I'm fleeing to be too close the outskirts of society. That would exemplify more boldness than I care to have. That would require a passion for life that I didn't seem to have anymore. Did I ever? Hard to imagine or remember a time where the marrow of life was served three times a day. Of course, as I think about it with the fields of grains seemingly serenading me with their whispery and windblown notes, throwing caution into the thick, humid, later-afternoon air does appeal to me. Even if in the most slightest and implausible way.
The red barn, that appeared not to have been painted in two decades, was close enough to the road and far enough away from the house, that I decided to pullover. Long blades of grass stretched themselves around the wooden posts up to the middle barbed wire. Just out of reach of the horses' mouths. The three horses were off in the distance almost complete silhouettes now that the sun was being anchored behind the row of trees rooted adjacent to the house.
A light came on in what appeared to be the kitchen and a woman whose age could not be seen from my distance, stood in front of the window. Her gaze was interrupted by two children. They seemed happy. Content. All of them. From the looks of their property - the unpainted barn, one very old car and a big section of the roof that had no shingles - they didn't seem to have much of anything. Their happiness stung me.
I started my car in search of another back road.