The Truck Driver

The biting night air of a Virginia truck stop wrapped around Tank as he took a long, slow drag from his cigarette. The ember glowed, a small, defiant light against the vast darkness of the lot. He watched the endless parade of rigs, a veteran at 22, the solitude of the road a familiar companion.
Then, she appeared. A young Black woman, dragging a suitcase, backpack, and duffel bag, her head snapping around every few seconds, eyes wide with a frantic, animalistic fear. She looked utterly lost, utterly alone.
"What you doin' 'round here with all that luggage?" he called out, his voice a low rumble in the night.
She stopped, her gaze locking onto his, a deer caught in headlights. Then, with a breath that seemed to carry the weight of the world, she spoke. "Trying to run away."
That got his attention.
