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can someone corroborate this

You are Death. The last living thing has died. You've put the chairs on the tables, turned out the lights, and locked the universe behind you. Something whispers from behind the door.

The Meaning Of Leaving by Ali Shapiro Maybe it was there all along, in our shirtsleeves, on the heavy trees, every time we turned left—as in the opposite of right, which is also wrong, as in the mistakes I’m bound to keep making as long as I long. I still love you but I can’t stay still, that’s why I’m bound for the coast in the old truck blazoned with rust, crest of snow, crust of salt, the bed that was our bed, you in the rearview for hundreds then thousands of miles—you the cornfield, you the semi, you the sirens pulling me over and over. I’ve got my eyes on the road’s gray throat, its soft shoulder, its sign that says yield. Maybe I was here all along, driving away in the driving rain, in the space between left meaning remaining and left meaning already gone.