Shawn Spencer sat upon his motorcycle, clad in leather and pissed as hell. He was barely keeping the infernal machine in the lanes, veering off to one side or another every few seconds. He'd long ago silenced the angry shouts and curses of fellow interstate patrons and the honk of horns; even the police sirens that would follow him from time to time.
"Another day, another life." The four words he thought he'd never utter to himself again, let alone happily; but as those who'd know him the past seven years, he may have kept a job longer than normal, but they knew he hadn't changed in the slightest. Gus knew better though. Even as he watched his friend speed off, he knew this wasn't the Shawn he knew. He had changed, just not in a way that was easily identified. He had loved, and now he'd lost, and it was killing his best friend just as much as him.
All thoughts of Santa Barbra were unceremoniously dumped into the bin at the back of Shawn's mind as of yesterday, and he had no intention of bringing them back. He just keeps speeding down the highway, off to become a new him for the 59th time in a row.