Gone Hunting
Danny sucks the wet end of a cigarette, tapping his hand on the steering wheel. Wisps of Maggie’s hair whip around from the rolled-down windows. Burned cedar wafts on the wind and night stretches long beyond the oak trees lining the old country road. Occasionally, the truck bumps. When it does, the heavy body in the bed bumps too. Maggie says I love this song and turns up the volume to drown out the sound. The pale tan line around her ring finger glows under the moonlight. She takes Danny’s hand and sings, Come on baby, don’t fear the reaper…
Photo Credit: Franklin Crawford
This piece brought back a memory or two. Awesome job.