I used to dream of this. If only I had a car. If only my parents would let me drive….
Now, we’re in Badlands, South Dakota. Prairie dogs chitter at each other atop dusty mounds. Blue sky stretches for miles, clean and clear as the still air above ridged hills and pale sand. You tuck tanned hands into slouchy pockets. A big grin marks your freckled face.
“I told you to gas up in Rapid City.”
“I have a gas can in the trunk.”
“Cool. I’ll be here when you get back.”
With a sigh, I pop the trunk.
This is my entry for Friday Fictioneers, a weekly 100 word flash fiction challenge led by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields.
I’m going to confess that due to a “minor” fear of heights there is approximately 0.0% chance I will ever take a hot air balloon ride. I have, however, been to the Badlands. In the Badlands, I once saw this weird animal running across the road late one night. It looked like a dog but not. Point is, I’d rather deal with whatever that was than a giant ball of gas with a basket under it. Not today, physics. Not today.