Joe was fearless, literally. Fear had taken a vacation.

Frankly, up until now, Joe had led quite a mundane life. Fear never felt needed, wanted or necessary so he packed his bags and left. He might be back. He might not. Only Time would tell. But seeing as how Fear and Time were well-acquainted, and on relatively good terms, Time might be persuaded to keep a secret.

So, Fear stood on the corner of the busy intersection – thumb out, backpack slung over his shoulder – hitching a ride to a more welcoming destination. His expectations for catching a ride were as low as his hopes for finding a new home.

People today, he thought to himself with an exasperated sigh. How he longed for the good old days. Typhoid Mary? A hoot and a holler! And that Lizzie Borden, what a cut-up! Fear chuckled at the memories.

But, no matter.

He could see himself reflected on the faces of the drivers zooming by. He knew no one would stop, no one would pick him up. Obviously, his reputation preceded him.