@comastoast
the sun is beginning to set, misting the sky with fades of orange and pink. it’s cold, so she sported a pair of ribbed capri-jeans, and white sneakers that had far too many miles on them. her backpack is an army green, with an arrangement of pins littering the front from each concert, every little city gas station she’s found herself on the edge of. starting off in california, all the way down the coast. it’s been two years since she left home, no phone, nothing but postcards sent back to her mother if only just to let her know she wasn’t dead in a ditch somewhere, before heading off to the next big city with less than a papertrail following in her footsteps. her thumb, unpolished, but dainty is sticking out towards the highway, and each step has a pep in her step, unafraid of the world. the sound of an old engine filters through her ears, and she turns on her heels, now walking backwards, thumb still out until the beat-up truck came to a stop. her heart beats frantically, adrenaline rushing through her veins as she pounces towards the passenger side window, which was conveniently halfway rolled down for her. small fingertips wrap around the glass, leaning against the door as she makes eye-contact with the driver. ---- definitely better than a trucker. “hey partner.” stevie playfully wiggles her brows, outstretching her hand through the window and nodding towards it. “names stevie -- like nicks? yeah. that’s me. looks like we’re both goin’ south?”
