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Weekly Contest #232
“Oh, how the years go by.” Only the echo of that rough southern voice was caught out in open land like this. Land arid by heat and miles and miles of nothing. “I remember there used to be grass here, more alive than either one of us.” The man speaking kicked a rock across the parking lot of a rusted gas station, a relic of the past, it could do nothing but be useful for scavenging for fuel now. “Will you keep it down? Pull up your scarf.” The man leaned down into the barely kept-together car they had stolen not too many miles down th...
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