Jerry have never picked up such a young hitch-hiker.
-Where do you go?
-California.
A swarm of fanciful freckles surrounded her nose; her hair was red; her eyes were blue; her face, pale.
-What's your name?
-Eileen.
They stopped in a petrol station.
And old man approached them.
-Do you go to the west?
-To Sacramento.
-The motor coach has gone away without me, and I haven't enough money for the motel.
The Chevrolet raced along the desert road. Wind spun crowded branches, as they were strange balls. By nightfall, landscape became phosphorescent.
-What do you do, Jerry? –Eileen asked.
-I'm a manager.
-I'm an actress.
Suddenly, the vault of sky dyed in red-hot, wind stopped, flatness got covered in orange light.
-My God! –Eileen exclaimed, gazing at horizon.
-Indescribable. -the old man added.
They leaved the car and went deep into the desert. They sat on the rough ground. The old man took out a mouth organ and played a Willy Nelson's melody.
-You know? –Jerry said, scratching head -. I've been untruthful. I've lost my job, my wife has left me and I don't know where I go.
-I haven't told the truth either -Eileen said -. I've run away from home.
-Well... my daughter have deserted me in the petrol station -the old man explained, with his eyes opened as dishes.
Some instants, full of uncertainty, went by, and then they started to laugh like sillies.
-And now...? –asked Jerry.
-Let's play another song... –said the old man.
Red light of sky was toning down, while nostalgia covered wilderness.
