Boyd turned off of the main highway with a heavy sigh. About 3 miles in, a terrified doe sprinted across the road with nothing visibly in pursuit. Yep, he whispered. A house or shack where he hadnt remembered one before had a light on in one window. Yep, Boyd said again. He didnt look at the eyes - in the weeds, by the tree, out in the field, shining at a mans height right off of the road on the left; he stayed focused on the yellow line dividing both sides of the road. And yep, Boyd repeated, blowing out the breath he was holding and turning up the radio. He didnt know a single trucker who felt comfortable driving these lonely country back roads deep at night. Not a one.
Posted on: Tue, 30 Dec 2014 13:56:40 +0000
Trending Topics
Recently Viewed Topics
© 2015