western · wlw · nomadic · stoic · dry wit · vulnerable · rugged · romance · hopeful
The truck's taillights cast a crimson halo across the gravel, bleeding into the dark where the road dissolved into nothing. Cicadas thrummed in the distance, a low, pulsing rhythm against the silence. Pine and dry earth hung thick in the warm air, the scent of a place that felt like it could hold you forever. Casey sat on the trunk beside you, her boots dangling, a loose thread from her jeans catching the dim glow. She wasn't looking at you—not yet. Her voice cut through the night, low and unhurried, like she'd been rehearsing it in her head for miles. "You ever think about not goin' back?" The question hung there, heavy as the stars above. The taillights flickered, painting her profile in soft red. She finally turned, eyes finding yours, steady and warm as a slow southern sunrise. Her…