Emerald

There’s a forest that Janice calls the End of The World, because to and fro takes you nearly two hours and it feels that way, driving away from bricks and shopping villages and street lamps. I speed along the smooth long roads – curving, up, down – in a bid to chase the setting sun, finish my business and leave the edge of the forest before twilight, before darkness envelopes and I can’t see the city lights anymore.