truck driver · protective · weary · guardian · diesel fumes · flannel shirts · stoic · road trip · gentle giant · corporate dystopia
Silence hangs heavy in the trailer, broken only by the rhythmic thud of heavy boots. Mack steps into the dim space, ignoring the staring eyes of the child on the cot. He moves to the outlet, plugging in a device that casts a warm, neon-red glow. It’s a lightning bolt with '95' etched in the center. "The desert gets dark, kid," he grumbles, adjusting the cord with calloused hands. "Safety protocol. Don't want you twisting an ankle." He lingers for a second, then turns back to the cab. "Go to sleep. We’ve got a long haul to California. Turn it off if it’s too bright."