Just Wandering

The yellow glow of Davenport faded behind me. The soot and salt of my trousers is now accompanied by a cakey film of dirt and dust. I place one foot in front of the other trying not to fade into the sleep my heavy eyes so desperately need.

The blue night air is interrupted suddenly by two white beams in the distance. Maybe this will be the one. Sure, he is going the wrong way, but you never know. I stick my thumb out like uncle Roger had once taught me (much to Ma’s displeasure). As the rusted Chevy drew closer, he slowed and rolled down his window.

“I ain’t stopping for someone like you.” The last word left a very special sting.
I turned my head away and kept gazing down the road. I don’t need any more trouble. As he drove away, window still down, the blue moonlight reflected harshly off his pale skin. Once he left, and the smell of his exhaust cleared, the hum of crickets buzzed again in my ears. I don’t know where I’m going at this point. It's just the crickets, me, and my thoughts. Am I lost? Am I a ghost drifting down this barren road aimlessly haunting the nothingness. I’m halfway across America, I should feel the promise of a future ahead of me. But I don’t. I’ve never felt so distant from Pittsburgh. From Jason.

The hair on my arms stood up. Is it just the chill of the blue air?

Two more headlights burst into the horizon.

“Where are you headed?” Two men sat in the front seat.

“Not all too sure if I’m being honest.” I responded, fighting the shakiness of my voice.

“Hop in and we’ll take you back to town. It’s about to get a hell of a lot colder out here.” He could tell the thin canvas jacket Simone had so generously given me wasn't enough.

“I’m Sal by the way.” The man in the passenger seat extended his arm out to mine as I hesitantly slid onto the cracked leather seats.

-Cory Maxson