The gas gauge on the rented SUV was slipping
precariously toward empty and, after hours on dusty, dirt roads, he was still
quite literally in the middle of nowhere, 100 degrees of blazing Texas sun beating
down on him and – holy shit – there really were buzzards flying overhead.
“Turn right at the cattle guard,” she’d said.
“What the fuck was a cattle guard?” he’d wanted to
ask, but of course didn’t, not after feigning a story about growing up on a
ranch himself.
It had been those legs – long and strong as she
sat tall astride her horse in that tight flannel shirt, dark hair cascading from
beneath a cowboy hat flirtatiously dipped just below one blue eye – promising him the ride of his life.
Damn you, Match.com!
This post from the Five Sentence Fiction prompt, "empty," and the One-Minute Writer challenge "worst vacation ever."
