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It's the journey that matters. They drive straight for a couple days, down the expanse of Interstate 15. Brendon takes weird delight in taking off-ramps and going on pointless side trips, even veering cross-country; eventually, though, he always finds his way back onto the highway. Mud clings tenaciously to the tread of their tires, and the gleaming metal bodywork is smudged and clouded into obscurity with choking red dust. There is dust in Ryan's eyes and every time he swallows, he can taste it thick on his tongue.
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Bookmark Notes:
my own private nevada