The sun was making it's way out of the sky

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The sun was making it's way out of the sky. It was approaching nightfall and Elizabeth was having a hard time reading the map on her phone. She squinted, bringing the screen closer to her face.

"Did you figure out where we're going yet?" Reuben asked, eyes glued to what was beyond the windshield.

"Not yet," Elizabeth muttered, straining to read the tiny words.

"How long does it take?"

Elizabeth slapped the phone down to her lap. "Don't rush me. If you haven't noticed, this whole thing was kinda spur of the moment. Give me a chance to figure things out."

"Well, figure things out faster. I feel like I'm driving in circles."

"How do you expect me to think?" Elizabeth glared at Reuben and his blowing mane. "Your truck sounds like an out-of-control blender."

"It's not that bad."

"It's that bad," Elizabeth said, swiping at the blonde strands that blew into her face. "It's a rusty, metal death-trap. There's no way this thing is safe."

"It's completely safe—"

A popping sound erupted from behind them. Elizabeth stiffened.

Reuben peeked over at her. "Relax. It was just the muffler. It does that from time to time."

"You're going to kill me."

"This is the best I got. I work seasonally at a hotel — as a waiter. I don't know what you were expecting."

"Something that didn't smell like a horse's stall at least," Elizabeth said. She struggled with the hand crank in an attempt to roll up her window. "And had automatic windows, and a working radio, and—"

Reuben took a whiff of the interior. "It doesn't smell that bad."

"You're delusional," Elizabeth said while smoothing out her windswept hair.

"I think it's just you." He reached for the air freshener hanging from his rearview mirror. "Here, wear this."

Elizabeth flinched as the pine tree fell into her lap. "I'm pretty sure this doesn't smell any better." She grimaced, flicking it to the floor.

"Don't waiters make good money?" Elizabeth asked, after a long pause. "You work at a five star resort. You guys must make a lot of tips."

"You would think so, wouldn't you?"

"So you don't?"

Reuben shook his head, eyes focused on the road. "It seems to be a rule of thumb that people who have the most give the least."

"That's not true."

Reuben grinned. "Of course you wouldn't think so."

"What's that suppose to mean?"

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