A dry, sandy summer like this one. I had met him just a mile down, by the Shell gas station, his cowboy boots kicking up a torrid storm as he leaned against an electric pole and kicked a Pepsi can out of his way -- it rolled like a tumbling weed before coming to a halt at my sandal-wrapped toes.

I picked it up, sand and dust whirling around me, forcing themselves into the slits of my eyes. "Hey cowboy."

He looked at me and said nothing. He lured me in with absolutely nothing but an intense blue stare as dense as diamonds. The Pepsi can hung slack at my side, crusted and bashed in my hand. I must've looked an idiot, just staring at this stranger, looking at the holes in his jeans and his refusal to interact with anyone outside of his own mind. He was hardened, beautiful, dead.

He picked up his rucksack and sauntered away. And right after, I picked up my own suitcase, walked to the phone, and put down my Pepsi. I called home -- I didn't want to leave just yet.


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alyceinwonderland (joined over 10 years ago)

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