Freedom at an unexpected time

I'm driving down the highway, and I can't help but observe other cars. Their crisp red tail lights enchant me as they glow against the early night sky. We are like a flight of fireflies traveling together for safety and for comfort. The thought of emptiness and isolation makes me feel vulnerable. For now, we tread the same path, navigating the curves of the wide road together.

But it can't always be this way. We see an exit approaching and some of us veer right, getting ready for the departure. A gut wrenching feeling twists my emotions and I no longer feel as I did before-safe and comfortable. Nonetheless, the rest of us continue straight ahead despite our loss.

We grieve for their departure, but continue on. After a long silence, I have adjusted to my lasting companions. I feel safe in our harmony of humming and whistling as we travel together.
But another exit approaches, and complacency leaves as quickly as it came. Another faction leans right and diverges. This loss feels greater than the first. Our numbers are gradually thinning down, and there is nothing that can be done.

And now another exit approaches. And another and another. I watch the last cars drive off, and suddenly I'm all alone. It is quiet now; there are no more hums and whistles, just silence and the soft buzz of the motor. I am disheartened by the loss of my flight, but in this loss I feel something strangely new. I can breathe freely now, but I never noticed before. It is like some burden weighing down on my chest has been lifted and for the first time I can truly breathe.