Sitting in this here car and wondering when the end is gonna come. Now maybe... I'm totally buzzing right now. Feeling light-headed. I look into the car next to this one and I see this woman-child staring straight at me. She doesn't blink. She's got her thumb in her mouth and her forehead pressed against the glass in marked concentration. I'm the object of her infatuation. Maybe she knows something I don't. I raise my hand to the glass and place it on the glass. She shifts her gaze to to my hand and I see a slow metamorphosis in her features. Her head cocks to a side and her indifference starts to crumple. Her thumb slips out of her mouth. She's probably been at it since she got into the car with her parents if the raw pink color is anything to go by. I follow her gaze. I've left a palm-shaped blood streak. I take my hand off and the image of my palm print catapults me into the past when I was no older than my observer. Keep your hands on the paper, dear. You don't want to get any on you. Playgroup with Mrs. Johnson. She told me I was her favorite student. I wonder what she would think of my latest creation.Knowing I'm about to die has given me some kind of inner peace. *to be continued*