Hitchiking
The wind sweeps leaves along the side of the road, swirling past the girl. She stands there forlornly, thumb out, hair as swirled as the leaves. Car after car passes her by, until a Porsche Cayenne stops. She seems surprised, and as she walks up to the vehicle she traces her finger along the side. Dirty, it leaves a clean streak. The passenger door pops open. She leans her head down and peers in. The man at the steering wheel gestures to her, get in, get in. She eases herself into the car, pushing trash aside with her feet as she does so. Paper wrappers, half filled soda pop Big Gulp cups, and greasy napkins are knee deep. The man grunts at her, and begins to pull away before she's even closed the door.
"Thanks for stopping" the girl says.
The man lifts his massive shoulders in a shrug. Tilts his head a bit to the left, which seems impossible to her, he has no neck to speak of. She gives him a side eye, checking him out. Who was this man driving a Porsche, she thought to herself, a Porsche this filthy is an interesting paradox. She smoothes her hands across her knees, clears her throat. She turns to watch the scenery speed by, and the layer of grime on the window fogs the view. She pulls into herself tighter, afraid to touch anything.
"Not going far" the man finally speaks.
He brushes crumbs off his chest, and smears food remnants into his sweater. The girl cringes. She steals a glance into the back of the car, boxes and laundry hampers and overfull black contractor trash bags reach the ceiling. She takes a deep breath, tells herself it's okay, everything is okay, and she chokes on the air. The smell has finally hit her, and she fumbles for the window button. Finding it, she presses down, praying for fresh air. The button is crunchy, covered in a film of something. The window makes a whirring noise, but doesn't open. Looking at the man driving, she sees beads of sweat on his upper lip. He is breathing heavily, in shallow gasping breaths.
"uh, My house is on the next block, you can let me out here, thanks so much" says the girl.
The man doesn't hesitate, he stomps on the brake without pulling over, reaches across her lap and opens the door.
