I was sitting on the tailgate of the truck when Simon and Felipe walked back to see me. It hadn’t been more than twenty minutes since I stumbled back to get water from the truck. It wasn’t my truck, it was Simon’s. He was adamant about using his own. He stood by its side looking proudly at his blue Ford F-150, finally getting some dust on it. Felipe set his cooler in the bed of the truck.
“You were right about this spot, though. Gorgeous view.” Simon said.
“Yeah, some good memories here with my family.” He said, looking through the pack he had left in the truck. He found his cigarettes and lit one. He opened a bottle of water.
“Feeling better?” Simon asked me.
“Yeah, just got a little dehydrated.” Truth was, I had spent the last twenty minutes thinking of the girl’s face and how she had died.
“I told you man, you got to stop scratching. Sun getting to you?” Felipe said. He was looking at my back. I was scratching. I stopped.
“Yeah, I think I just sat in the sun too long. Just not feeling well.” I jumped down from the tailgate. Hell, I started to believe myself even. I could still see her screaming yell in my head.
“Alright, let’s saddle up and get out of here.” Simon said.
I climbed into the backseat of the truck, moving all the crap that had been dropped in the backseat. This included layers of clothing, shoes, and lunches. I closed the door behind me. I opened my phone and checked the news. I wanted something to occupy my head for a bit. I started doomscrolling. It was a bad habit and one that I was trying hard to break myself from doing, but I couldn’t help it. When I was stressed, I started scrolling through whatever news article titles could grab my attention. I heard Felipe and Simon talking outside the truck.
“You are not smoking in my truck.” Simon said.
“Come on man, I’m almost done, I’ll roll down the window.”
“Fuck you, nope. Either finishing quickly or squash it, not in my truck.”
“Alright, damn.” Felipe dropped it on the ground, grinding it into a pile of ash in the dirt.