From the cabin of her semi, gliding along the desert highway, Jolene's eyes are settled on the blurry distance. Until one day, when, paused in a throb of traffic, she spots a tiny thing camouflaged against the roadside scrub. Motherly instinct drags her out into the midday heat, where she catches a teetering little girl, mid collapse.
Fred dials her for the ninth time. “Jo, I don’t know if… you’re probly not getting these.” The realization makes him tremble. “Look, no matter what happened, you can call me, okay?”
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