what am i doing here, the cowboy asked himself mournfully.
all i wanted was what is rightfully mine.
it started to rain.
the night was dark and the highway was darker.
headlights appeared up ahead.
they speeded up as they approached the cowboy.
the story of my life, he thought.
it had all begun when he was born.
he turned and watched the car’s tail lights recede and vanish.
another car’s headlights came up behind him, going in the direction he was waking.
not that he was really “going” anywhere.
this one slowed down as it approached him.
would it actually stop?
who or what would be in it?
would it be a beautiful young woman on the prowl for true love?
if it was, he hoped she would not look like jocasta, who had ruined his life.
would it be a rich man looking to hire a private secretary, who would be well paid and have all the time in the world to write his book explaining, once and for all, the problems of the human race and what to do about them?
would it be a fire breathing young rebel, looking to recruit converts to some glorious cause or other?
would it be an old person, desperately wanting a sympathetic soul to listen to the sad story of their wasted life?
would it be a serial killer?
would it be a law enforcement officer, finding the cowboy at last?
the cowboy’s mind drifted back in a flash to all the terrible things he had done in his too short lifetime…
the car came to a stop.
he was tempted to turn and run back into the shadows from which he had emerged.
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