The Drive Of Shame

It was a drive I had done many times before - home to office, office to home - but this time was different. I had just been laid off from my job, and I knew I wouldn't be back. HR didn't ask for my keys or badge, but I felt strangely disconnected from a place that once served as my home away from home.

As I walked along the row of my colleagues' cars, I looked at their names, labeled on a sign above each spot. Some I would keep in touch with, others I would probably never see again. I wondered why they had escaped my fate. A pair of blank signs reminded me of the two who were cut a few months before me. Back then, I felt lucky. Today, I felt sorry for myself.