The Endless Highway
The highway stretched endlessly ahead, a ribbon of asphalt disappearing into the horizon. As the sun sank lower, it cast long shadows across the landscape, their movements almost rhythmic, as if dancing to an unseen melody. Jake sat quietly by the window, his expression a mix of curiosity and fatigue. He likely had never experienced a ride in a truck before, yet he remained silent, his thoughts hidden behind a veil of stillness. I suspected it was his way of processing the difficult circumstances we were navigating—a quiet resilience in the face of uncertainty.
The Endless Highway
Drawing in the Dust
As I drove, I glanced over to see Jake tracing shapes in the dust that had settled on the seat beside him. A faint smile played on his lips, and he seemed utterly absorbed in a world of his own. I chose not to disturb him. Instead, I found myself wondering what images were forming in his young mind, what stories he might be silently crafting and replaying as the road stretched ahead of us. But more than anything, I couldn’t shake my curiosity about his story—how he had come to be alone on the side of the road that day.
Drawing In The Dust
