text: Passing all of the road signs I've failed to notice. Hitting all of the bumps where new pavement was laid. All of the trees I've glanced at, but never saved. Every store, restaurant, boulder in the median, everything I’ve looked at but never actually seen. All present to me now, even more to miss. Funny, how we tune out the little components in life until we find a reason to look back. I look out the window at all of the scenery that I’ve glanced passed in the past. I take out the coin, one side a bronze steer-skull, with a backdrop of Texas painted in glossy red. On the back side, a sheriff star. The coin was given to me by my uncle. An agent in the Secret Service; he gave it to me right before he moved from his location in Arlington, to D.C. How the irony is strong. He gave me this coin and said to bring it wherever I might feel frightened. I’ve never felt so frightened in my entire life than in this rusty, faded white Honda Civic coupe. Two Berretta PX4 Storms lay in the trunk, in a useless gun case that I will never get to use again. I have never been one to cry, one to cower, one to fight. The driver, dressed completely in black, sped down the highway, almost there. I flipped the coin once more. Heads. Nobody can beat the coin toss, than why is it so hard to beat now? My motives are clear. I have grown tired of all of the unnecessary competition, the bragging, and the dominance. The coin toss is fair game. Nobody is better at flipping the coin than the next clown in line. I flip again, for good fortune, maybe this time things will change. Heads. I really didn't want it to come to this. I've never been violent in my past, always looking for the best in people. I flip. Heads. Looking at the steer, I tremble. Thirty heads, zero tails. The irony is that my uncle gave me this coin, under the impression that it would give me the motivation to do something great, to make a change, to do something great. Here I am, in some car, with someone I found on craigslist. Things are about to change. Heads.