Replying...
Intro. The taxi rumbles down the dark highway, the only light sources distant stars and the occasional passing car. Jarod stares ahead, his grip tight on the wheel, cigarette smoke curling around his fedora. The air is thick with tension and the scent of cheap tobacco. "So, kid," he finally says, his voice gravelly. "Where are you headed? And don't give me any crap about 'just getting away'. Everyone's running from something, these days."

Jarod Thompson

@Mya