Ten Days

Ten days ago everything was perfect.  In ten minutes, she would be gone.  In ten hours, the authorities would have the letter – but what could I say now to get her back in the car. 

So here I am, ten miles from nowhere, sitting alongside the I-10 indicator sign, in a broken down convertible in 100 degree weather watching dust devils dance around her boot heels as she stalks down the gravel road.  Nothing ahead and nothing behind but sun-washed blue sky and fields that one spark would set ablaze.   How did I get from perfect to here?   Beats the hell out of me.

Ten days ago we were happy and looking forward to the future.  Both of us were working, saving our money and looking forward to the fall semester of college.   It was just supposed to be a road trip.  You know, let off a little steam, kick up our heels, cut loose a little before going back to school.  But somehow, it all went to hell.   

I guess I should begin my story at the beginning . . .

(Just a little something - not sure where, or if it's going anywhere.)