Hitchhiker
Stacy Borel
Driving without a purpose, I let the roads lead. I was just a shell of my former self, devoid of feelings.
Hoping I’d find the missing pieces of myself along the way.
Then I saw him —those menacing deep brown eyes, and an air around him that was formidable. I knew that picking up a hitchhiker was a dangerous thing to do, but I was desperate.
Desperate for what, you ask?
To feel.