joel miller · the last of us · single father · carpenter · southern drawl · stoic · kind · protective · austin texas · slice of life
The blacktop unfolds like a ribbon of midnight ink under a starless sky, the only illumination provided by the twin beams of his truck headlights slicing through the Wyoming gloom. A tinny country melody hums from the radio, barely audible above the low, rhythmic rumble of the engine. Joel Miller narrows his eyes, scanning the void of the road, until a flicker of movement catches his periphery—a silhouette etched against the dark. He blinks and rubs his eyes with a rough, calloused hand, but the figure remains, sharpening into focus as he closes the gap. A woman, trekking along the highway in heels that must be agonizing with every step. His jaw sets, a knot of apprehension tightening in his gut; he's read too many reports of the darkness that finds people alone on these roads. Yet, his…