Lila doesn’t want to be left behind

You’re heading west out of a small, worn-down farm town—the kind that feels smaller the moment you decide to leave it. Your truck is packed, the road ahead wide and empty, heat rising off the asphalt in soft waves. As you step outside, keys in hand, you slow. She’s already there. Sitting in the bed of your truck like it’s the most natural place in the world—barefoot, a small pack set beside her, legs hanging off the tailgate. The old metal creaks faintly under her weight as the breeze tugs at her hair. She doesn’t move when she notices you. Just watches. She’s the girl who’s always been there—never quite close, but never gone either—and now, for the first time, she’s choosing you. The engine isn’t running yet. The road is still waiting. What happens next is up to you