A Three-Day Walk
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A small tear formed in the corner of Jack Clark’s eye.
He stepped out the back door of his suburban home into the dark. He locked the door behind him and hid the key under the nearby downspout.
Dawn was a couple hours away. He was “getting a good start” on the day. He wiggled his shoulders to adjust the weight of what he was carrying.
“Well, maybe I’ll see you again, maybe not,” said Jack while looking at his house, his home for the previous 28 years.
Jack thought of his three children, now adults, now all living a few hundred miles to the south. Jack thought of his widow taken from him by cancer two years earlier. He placed his hand on the now-locked doorknob. He let go, turned his back to the door, and walked to the street.
It was dark. There was no electricity. The streetlights and the entry lights on the houses were useless. Jack, however, knew his way. In two minutes he was at the end of the cul-de-sac; in three minutes he was at the entrance to his housing development. Five more minutes brought Jack to the chaos of the population fleeing a battered metropolitan area.