By All Accounts
Zane’s sweaty hands clasped the steering wheel in a white-knuckled death grip. Following Google's directions, he flipped the signal, slowed down, and turned right. Three months ago, a brain-splitting headache had forced him to leave the highway and seek out the nearest town with a store that sold painkillers. Today though, he was on the small, meandering road to Warrington deliberately. He left the highway because— He could do this.
After a while, the hardware shop with