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“If we do this, it’s the end of it all. You know that, right?” Maybe he was asking her because she seemed unsure. Or, perhaps it was because he himself couldn’t believe what they were attempting. She turned her head to the side and looked up at him. Her indigo eyes, though warm, conveyed a mix of fear and inspiration. The corners of her lips turned slightly upwards as she locked with his brown optics and that was enough. He realized that she was as bound as he was.

The blazing sun had closed up shop for the night, leaving a crisp glow on the vista to light the path that the beat up, once-white Eldorado would take. A few bags occupied the backseat. Both doors slammed shut within split seconds of each other, throwing dust onto the walls of the car. He turned the key, causing the engine to roar to life and the radio to begin rattling through the speakers. Appropriately enough, Lynyrd Skynyrd’s “Freebird” broke the deserted silence.

She said to him: “We’re doing this and it’s the end of it all. I know it’s right.”

He drove.