Charles || C. Leclerc

19

A couple of months later

The rhythmic hum of tires on the asphalt merged with the monotonous white noise of the radio. Charles gripped the steering wheel tightly as his car weaved through the motorway, surrounded by a couple of vehicles he was following. But his mind wandered aimlessly, far from the present moment, lost in more thoughts.

The world outside his car window seemed like a blur. Oblivious to the passing scenery, Charles was trapped in a cycle of reflection, contemplating the complexities of his career. He pondered over the restless pursuit of success, the elusive quest for satisfaction.

His mind wandered back to the early days of his career, the spark of excitement that once fuelled his motivation. But as time passed, that enthusiasm was overshadowed by the daily grind. A sense of dissatisfaction had settled deep within him, like an unshakable weight on his shoulder. That job that once was his passion had become a source of frustration.

It doesn't work anymore. Am I not good enough? Why am I failing? Is it me? Why does it work with Carlos and not with me? I am not good enough anymore. I don't know why I still put so much energy into this. And why do I keep promising myself it will get better because it won't.

Charles couldn't help but question his choices as the kilometres stretched on. Was it the path he had chosen or the manner in which he pursued it? Should I have gone to another team? He was so consumed by the internal struggle that he failed to notice that he had crossed a border twice now. He mulled over his sacrifices along the way; countless overtime hours, missed family gatherings and the relentless pressure to achieve more. All this had taken a toll on his well-being, leaving him disconnected from his life. And let's not forget his family's sacrifices for him.

The frustration built within him like a brewing storm, fuelled by his inability to find solace in his work. Pursuing success had become a relentless cycle, leaving him drained and unfulfilled. He yearned for a sense of purpose, for work that would ignite his passion once more. But the way forward appeared hazy and indistinct in the maze of his thoughts.

It was only when an unexpected jolt broke through his reverie that Charles snapped back to reality. He got a reminder he had to fuel up the car soon. Charles blinked a couple of times and looked around; he couldn't figure out where he was, but he was far away from his home. He left with a full tank; now it was time to refuel. It's a miracle I'm still alive. How did I not crash? What is the time? His eyes fell on the time: 15:28. Fuck, I left around eleven o'clock. Where am I? He didn't recognise the surroundings. To his luck, the petrol station was the next exit. He pushed the handle next to his steering wheel up, making the right blinker light flash. Charles slowed down, exited the motorway and entered the platform. He stopped next to the pump, turned off the engine, and exited the car. He scanned his surroundings; mountains. His heart sank as he realised he had no recollection of arriving here. The disorientation deepened his frustration, a tangible reminder of how lost he had become in his own mind.

A mix of emotions flooded Charles' mind; surprise, alarm, and a hint of curiosity. He pulled out his phone and opened the navigation app, eager to uncover his unintended destination. With each passing second, his heart pounded in anticipation. The screen revealed his current location; the north of Italy. He had passed Milan and Trente. Where in the fuck am I going to?

Pushing aside his confusion, Charles approached the fuel pump. He filled the tank with mechanical efficiency, his thoughts still swirling. A sudden realisation struck him like a lightning bolt as he stood there, waiting for the transaction to complete. He knew this route all too well. The disorientation he had felt just moments ago disappeared. At the petrol station, one door was red in colour. He had been here before, a lot of time. And the last time was six months ago.