Not Looking Back

In the distance, there was a city, but it was in the distance behind her. She'd had enough of places like that. She did not look back, not even once, to see it fading, losing shape, in the mists of distance.

When the path she was walking down, alongside, the river, curved away so that the city, looking like the ghost of some mountain in the distance, was lost to her she did not look back, did not say good-bye.

She was going. She did not know where she was going, just that she was going. She wanted a new life, something that she had not done before. Her life was far behind her. Her old life was over and gone. She hoped the memories of it would fade and be lost from sight like the city she knew she could no longer see behind her, even if she turned and looked back. She knew know that the city was out of sight, lost past the curve of the river and the distance. Still she did not look back. She'd had enough of looking back, looking over her shoulder. She had decided that morning when packing her few tawdry belongings into her travelling pack that she would never look back ever again.

Looking back was where she had made all her other mistakes, wanting to go back and make things right had kept her in the city for too long. She could feel her life slipping away the longer she remained and she'd known that if she did not take the chance that morning, then she would never leave.