“I’ve got nothing but time” she replied with a smile that reminded him of citrus. He couldn’t tell if that slice of smile was sour or sweet, just like the first bite of an orange. He was curious if she had always been this woman. The kind whose hair falls to her shoulders in waves as if she’d been swimming in the ocean. Waves of hair that hide dreadlocks, thick, and hanging off her head, effortless. He knew she had all the time to spare, they were both at this dusty parcel for the same reason. Eastland, 11.5 miles South of Monticello and then another 8 miles east of that. Utah was dry. Dry of sins, but not sinners. Their beer was 3.2% on tap, and you couldn’t find a door open on Sunday that wasn’t a church. But it wasn’t doors you were looking to pass through in this part of the country. It was the land. Crossing over, amass in clods of layered rock, criss crossing the horizon, stacked by ancient mythic creatures. The canyons, towers, and red rock rose reflecting into your pupils. Rising you up with them, stirring the adrenal urge to be higher, climb higher, to feel high. “You ever been to Durango?”, he kicked a rock and shielded his eyes from the sun as to see her face, her glow in the rays. “I have some friends there from I think you’d like, thats if you feel up for the drive”. She stared at him half bewildered, half amused. His eyes echoed his skin, a smooth, rich hazel. She had never been to Colorado before, but she’d never refused fresh scenery either. “Let’s go!” she cried whilst mashing her belongings into the maroon pack beside her. “Right Now?”, he stalled by his bed. She smiled wide again and let out a laugh that threw her onto the couch beside her. “Why not?” She said sifting deeper into the murky couch. “We can make it before night fall and we can sleep in my car.”
©BrookeB
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