You're driving home automatically, not aware of making lefts and rights. Or stopping for the red lights, slowing for the yellows. You're aware of people moving, cars passing you in another lane.

Laid-off. You and two hundred others. Six in your department. That makes twenty-three in your department in the past four months.

You drive on. Glass eyes looking through a windshield at the world you used to be a part of. Feeling like a spectator looking in instead of looking out.

You drive on.