The Hitchhiker Without a Shadow

The girl standing by the side of the road didn't wave. She didn't stick out her thumb or

smile hopefully at passing cars. She just stood there, motionless as a scarecrow,

her pale dress hanging limp in the Arizona heat. Even from a distance, I could tell something

was off, the way her shadow stretched too long for the angle of the sun,

the way her bare feet didn't seem to disturb the dust beneath her. I slowed down more

out of reflex than intention. My knuckles ached where they gripped the wheel,

the air conditioning humming uselessly against the desert pressing in from all sides.

The radio crackled, a local station dissolving into garbled static before cutting out entirely.