Andy drove around town, eating Twizzlers and guzzling energy drink. The fog of the morning lifted from the roads and from his mind. His mind wandered like his car, left and right, pausing to remember when it passed by a landmark. Every school, 7-11, cemetery. Every old friend's house. Every old bully's house.
Andy thought about how he escaped this town on an academic scholarship, moving just a few hours down the road as a freshman and never looking back. A few hours' drive was all it took to change his life completely. He thought about Vegas. He thought about all the money he's won at casinos all over the country. He thought about all the tests he aced, all the food he stole, the postgraduate program he was accepted into. (Surely that was by merit, but why leave it to chance?) He thought about the plans he made. Plans for himself and his mother.
Just before he made the final turn to head back to the hotel, the car stopped almost as if by itself. In a nondescript neighborhood, in front of a nondescript house. The forested area behind it, unchanged for centuries. The for sale sign in front of it, unchanged for years.
There it was, the house in which his mother died.