The characters and events in this post are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
His rattletrap car only just gasped over the seven mile Overseas Highway and finally let out it's last groan on Stock Island. He ditched the pathetic deathtrap next to what looked like a trailer park and walked on to the island at the End of the World. He was grateful the car had gotten him as far it it had. He'd known the car was going to going be DOA but had risked it anyway because he had "no intention of never going back no how." And that's what he'd told his wife as he walked out the door. Her kids blinked at him blearily from where they curlicued on the doorstep, watching as he threw his bag into the backseat, understanding his flight but clearly longing for their own rescue.