As a fledgeling teenager, I dreamt of being a rebel. But between the rigid Presbyterian church we attended every Sunday and a father not afraid to wield his thick leather belt, I learned to conform.
Now, as a law-abiding, middle-aged man I pay my taxes. I don’t drink or smoke and have never taken drugs or cheated on my wife. Rules and regulations; bylaws and petty bureaucracy were made for people like me.
Hence my present dilemma. The arrow tells me to drive one way. So I do.
And I wonder if I will ever break free of this roundabout?
100-word story for Friday Fictioneers.
Picture courtesy of C.E. Ayr