I have this thing, this horrible thought that pops up whenever I'm driving across the big bridge over the bay – especially when it's raining buckets, you know, that grey sheeting kind of rain. I picture my minivan, my old dependable delivery chariot, just… veering. Sharply. Right through the guardrail, over the edge, into the dark, churning water below. And it’s not a quick flash, no – it's a slow-motion dive, a terrifying, almost peaceful descent into the black. What is THAT about, honestly? Is it the isolation of all those years, watching the world go by from my kitchen window, longing for… something, anything, more than just the hum of the fridge and the laundry cycle? We humans, we’re such strange beasts, aren't we, with our dark little mental detours.