In the deep sands of the Savannah desert where the wind blew north in a foggy pile like a blown smoke from a hubley pipe, where the sun cooks the land harshly like an oven cooking a chicken and where sweat takes only one second to reach your shoes with dehydration being your only friend.
I saw a truck, more like a G63 6x6 type of trucks if I saw it correctly.
It was storming up a narrow road towards the heap sady mountains of Savannah in a speed that could have caused a great poser with the road laws.
The dust was whooshing and cloudy looking, more like a boiling pot of water that had been just opened. I didn’t know where whoever was in it was rushing at but his driving characterized a person who was at a comfort of time.
Maybe he was running away from the police or pretending to chase an imaginary thief, I mean people do weird things when they are bored trust me, I have perceived worse!
Well, the truck continued in its constant velocity and because of my big hunger for curiosity, I took a long stride nearer him so I could scoop all the juicy stories behind his drastic commotion. Wait!
This is out of expectation, mostly people who drive open trucks wear jeans with shirts or t-shirts not an expensive tuxedo suit that looked exquisitely dear and posh in its dreamy black texture!
They either have a long cigar or a frugal cigarette in hand and a bottle of beer by their side, not a bottle of sparkling water.
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ActionThis is a story of a man who was earning his next breath by taking another.
