| Emerald City eyes that followed the Golden road |

~***~

"Where are you off to, m'dear?" The old nun asks the little girl. The girl shuffles in the seat and stares at the road ahead.

"Doesn't matter..." The girl mumbles, crumpling her skirt in her tiny palms. I Will Follow Him is playing on a Little Peggy March tape.

"Don't you have a home I can take you to? Any family at all?" The nun asks carefully. She looks down at the little girl who has not moved much at all.

"I don't have a home...at least, not anymore..." The girl utters out softly. The nun gasps while grabbing her cross necklace. She looks over at the little girl while thumbing the ruby gem in the centre of the cross, and she suddenly smiles at the child.

"I think I can change that, m'dear," the nun says, taking her golden cross necklace off. She hands it over to the little girl, and the girl looks up at the old nun with a lost look trapped in her emerald eyes. The little girl accepts the necklace and stares at it in her pale hands. The golden cross glimmers as the sun reflects on it between the trees as they drive down the road. She puts it on, and then briefly smiles at the old nun.

"Can you find me a home?" The little girl asks softly.

"Of course, m'dear. That's what I do for a living... I help lost children like you find a home." She pulls out the tape and lets the radio play. Sam Cooke's What A Wonderful World plays, and it puts the little girl at ease.

~***~

"Sorry to ask so soon, but...why exactly are you covered in dirt?" The man asks, snapping me out of my trance. I blink for a moment and realize we've been driving for at least fifteen minutes without speaking. What A Wonderful World is on the radio as I look down at my limp body before turning to the man. I stare at him for a few seconds until he turns back to the road while tilting his head uncomfortably. "Sorry, that's not really a good conversation starter, huh?"

I continue to stare at him silently as he looks over at me with a forced chuckle. He quickly coughs it out, obviously pretending that he's clearing his throat, before going completely silent again. I raise an eyebrow at him as he nervously adjusts his grip on the steering wheel, and avoids making any eye contact with me. "If only we met someplace else, we'd probably have more interesting things to talk about..."

I lean back with crossed arms and lift both of my eyebrows. "Like what?" His cheeks crinkle as he smiles at my witty response.

"We'd talk about things that's not awkward, maybe?" A tiny smile forms on my face at his reply. However, my smile falls instinctively.

"Well, why don't we talk about somethin' not awkward, then?"

He laughs a little under his breath and then straightens his posture a bit. "Okay...uhh, what's your name? It just occurred to me that I haven't asked you yet," he looks over at me, and then back on the road.

I focus on my hangnail as I reply. "My name's Mona."

He looks at me with a lifted eyebrow before watching where he's driving again. "That's an...interesting name. Is it a nickname, or somethin'?"

"It's short for Desdemona. You know, like the character from the play, Othello?" His confused look returns. "Hey, I didn't pick the name," I add briefly with a shrug.

He chuckles a bit, and slightly shakes his head while muttering, "Desdemona..."

"So, you gonna tell me your name? Or will that just forever remain a mystery?" I ask, realizing that he never actually told me his name yet. He smiles and looks over at me.

"My name's Clyde," he says, looking back at the road with a content smile.

I look at the environment and notice that he's taking me back to the town I just came from. I effortlessly keep my cool as I look over at him and ask, "so, Clyde, would ya mind dropping me off at the bus station in town?"

Clyde glances over at me, and his lips form into a straight line before he looks back at the road. "Yeah, sure," he replies while leaning over and opening the glove department. He pulls out a cloth and closes it before I can see what else is in there. "Here, use this to clean yourself up a bit." I take the cloth, and start wiping my face and arms without questioning it.

~***~

We walk into the diner by early evening, and once we get inside, Clyde steers me to a booth by the big front window. We sit across from one another, and I toss my satchel on the bench beside me. All I Have To Do Is Dream is playing ambiently in the nearly empty restaurant.

"So, the next bus comes, when?" I ask, trying to make conversation.

"About forty-five minutes to an hour from now," Clyde responds almost a little too quickly. I tap my fingers impatiently on the cold table, and we sit in silence until the waitress comes with some menus.

"Lacy, how are ya? I like the new haircut." the waitress giggles and twirls her hair at Clyde's compliment.

"Ah, thank-you, Clyde! Sherryl still hasn't noticed," she responds while gesturing to the other waitress. I assume that's Sherryl. Clyde laughs lightheartedly, and Lacy straightens herself up. "And who might this be?" She suddenly asks, her attention now on me.

"This is Mona. She's a...friend," Clyde replies while looking over at me with weak posture and a strained smile.

"Nice to meet'cha, darlin'," she chimes as I politely shake her hand and nod as my response.

"What can I get y'all to drink on this fine evening?" She asks sweetly, her voice chiming like an off-tune church bell. She has this tired tone in her voice, making it easy to tell she's worked here too long for comfort.

"I'll have the usual," Clyde says with a smirk.

"Draft or bottled?"

"Bottled is fine, thanks."

"And for you, sweet pea?" She turns her attention to me. I feel a cold sensation crawling up my spine at her words. She sounds almost exactly like --

"I'll just have a water, thanks," I say before picking up my menu. My eyes follow her as she walks away to the kitchen, and I stop at the cover of the newspaper in a man's hand. He's sitting alone with a cup of coffee. Resting on his sweaty head is a dark brown fedora with a feather attached to the brim, and he's wearing big round glasses with a thin golden frame. His mustache ruffles every time he sips from the mug as his eyes scan the local news.

"That's horrible, isn't it?" Clyde asks abruptly, causing my locked gaze on the newspaper to avert to the gruff man in front of me. He must have noticed I was staring at the cover of the newspaper.

"Yeah, a real horror show if you ask me. Someone should really stop them..." I say as my attention averts back to the picture on the newspaper. The picture on the cover is a middle-aged man standing at a podium with the FBI symbol behind him. I glance at Clyde and I notice him eyeing the paper as well, but his expression seems more disgruntled than mine. I mean, I suppose anyone would have that look when a headline reads: "Pasco Family Case Bigger Than Manson Family Case, Says Officials".

Lacy catches us both off guard when she places our drinks in front of us. Clyde's breath hitches as he straightens his posture, forcing another false smile at the waitress.

"Can I get y'all anything to eat?" Lacy's eyes crinkle as she smiles at us.

"Uh, yeah, I'll have the cheeseburger special," Clyde says as he hands her his menu.

"I'll have what he's having," I say as I hand over my menu as well. I didn't even bother looking at the menu. I just want to get the hell out of here. Lacy walks off with our menu's as I look out the window; a bus pulls into the station across the street.

"I'll be right back. I have to make a quick call," Clyde says with that strained smile of his. I nod with a straight face and watch him walk over to the phone booth at the other end of the diner. Something is definitely not right. He's keeping me here - I know it, but why? I start absent-mindedly tapping my fingers again, lost in thought.

"Hey, what's a doll like you sittin' here all alone?" A gruff voice breaks my view on Clyde as my gaze moves to the man standing beside my table. He has slicked back hair, a black leather jacket, and a tattoo on his chest that's peeking from his red shirt. I'm going to assume he's affiliated with the guys at the bar that's dressed exactly like him, and the bikes outside. This 6-foot biker shows up, calloused fingers gripping a Budweiser, as if on cue for me to make my great escape from my sneaky friend at the phone booth. Clyde's probably calling the police, too, I bet. He looks too calm while leaning casually against the phone booth; the giveaway is his close proximity to the telephone in his tight grip.

"I'm not alone," I reply with a sly smile, "not anymore..." I add a wink for good measure. 6-Foot-Joe chuckles and leans against the booth before he starts twirling my hair with his free hand. Perfect.

I casually swift my gaze back and forth from Clyde and my biker friend, waiting for the right moment.

"You've got fine long locks here, little lady. Real soft, like your lips I bet," he mumbles as his fingers continue to twirl through my hair.

Time for the big finish --

"Hey, leave her alone!" Clyde yells as he shoves the biker away from me. The man's beer shatters across the floor, and some of my hair tugs away with him as he falls backward. I grab my head and look up at the scene with furrowed eyebrows. Goddammit. Clyde was watching me when I wasn't looking. Stupid, Mona. Biker Buddy steps forward with a puffed chest and winks at me. This causes Clyde's eye to twitch, and his hands balled into white-knuckled fists.

"Hey, do I have to ask you again, asshole? I said: Leave-the-girl-alone," Clyde snarls at the man, allowing me a new open opportunity to regroup. However, I'm interrupted once a tight grip pulls me from the booth. Clyde's fist suddenly makes contact with the man's face, and I let a small gasp escape my lips as Clyde pulls me behind him. What the hell is he doing?

Clyde tackles the man over the table beside us and completely knocks it and all of the dishes over with a crash. Lacy screams, and a few other bystanders scream or back away with wide eyes. I look out the window and watch the bus drive away, but my eyes stop at Clyde's truck in the parking lot.

I grab my bag and Clyde's keys before slipping out of the diner, completely unnoticed through the chaos. I quickly enter the truck, and the sound of the door slamming catches Clyde's attention for a moment. I turn the key in the ignition as Clyde stares at me with a baffled expression; meanwhile, the biker struggles to stand up behind him.

"-- and now, by popular demand, The Most Beautiful Girl !" The radio announcer says before fading the folk song into the speakers.

I groan as I bitterly turn the dial to change the channel. I hate that f***ing song. I quickly back out of the diner's parking lot and I head towards the highway. Let The Sunshine In casually carries me out of this god-forsaken town, and into the blooming sunset.

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1. Do you think it was unfair of Mona to leave Clyde like that, or do you think she made the right decision?

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