“I want you to write an account of a time you felt trapped.”
Louise Doughty, A Novel in a Year
Locked in an Airstream, with a man that I had only known for a month, I had an overwhelming sensation to flee. I was cornered in the bed against aluminum walls, with the weight of two down comforters on top of me, staring at a low aluminum ceiling. I was somewhere in the woods, bordered by farmland with no farm houses in sight other than the old school house with rickety plumbing and an occupant that smoke a lot of pot. I didn't know which direction was Fennville, Saugatuck, or Douglas, Michigan. There was no posted address, my cell phone had a shaky signal, but I decided walking somewhere would relieve my trapped feelings. I quietly left the camper, peed in the woods, and headed for the road.
After walking for over forty minutes, I ascended a slight hill as the horizon shifted with each step closer to a stop sign. I didn’t know which way led to town. I stood at the intersection for quite some time before I turned back to camp.