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34

I run until I make it to the edge of the road, an actual tarmac and straight road, that I fall and kiss with utter gratitude. Tears are welling up to blurriness. A gritty, cold, rough surface that hurts my parched lips, but I’ve never been so happy to see something manufactured in all my life. I can’t describe the elation and aching chest pain it gives me.

 The truck is long gone, and I stare off in the direction it went, along a long road that curves off out of sight, and I gaze both ways, trying to figure out which would be the shortest route to a town. One might be close; one might not. Or maybe I’m being too hopeful, and it stretches for miles either way with nothing at all. If I have any chance of being rescued, I have to stick to the tarmac and not stray. Roads mean people, and people mean being saved. I am not going to give up. I get to my feet and follow the truck's route, hoping it’s the right choice.

I watch the sun all day as I w

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