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3<br />
<strong>Jack</strong> <strong>kilborn</strong> <strong>SErial</strong> <strong>blakE</strong> <strong>crouch</strong><br />
Donaldson pulled over onto the shoulder and lowered the<br />
passenger window. The girl was young and tiny, wearing a<br />
wool cap despite the relative warmth.<br />
“Where you headed?” he winked before he said it, his<br />
smile genuine.<br />
case.<br />
“Missoula,” lucy answered.<br />
“Got a gig up there?” he pointed his chin at her guitar<br />
She shrugged.<br />
“Well, i’m going north. if you chip in for gas, and promise<br />
not to sing any show tunes, you can hop in.”<br />
The girl seemed to consider it, then nodded. She opened<br />
the rear door and awkwardly fit the guitar case onto the<br />
backseat. before getting in, she stared at the upholstery on<br />
the front seats.<br />
“What’s with the plastic?” she asked, indicating<br />
Donaldson’s clear seat covers.<br />
“Sometimes i travel with my dog.”<br />
lucy squinted at the picture taped to the dashboard—the<br />
portly driver holding a long-haired dachshund.<br />
“What’s its name?”<br />
“Scamp. loveable little guy. hates it when i’m away. but<br />
i’m away a lot. i’m a courier. right now, i’m headed up to<br />
idaho Falls to pick up a donor kidney.”<br />
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