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*This piece is a continuation of previous freewrites. See bottom of post for links to previous entries.
Priya as not sure how long she had been walking, one foot in front of the other, following the yellow line down the center of the road, when an approaching car blared its horn and swerved away from her, screeching to a halt several feet behind her.
The car’s door burst open, and a tall man shot out, arms waving. “What on earth is wrong with you, lady? I could have killed you!”
She turned to look at him as he stormed towards her, and he faltered.
“Are…are you okay, ma’am?”
She scrubbed at her face, feeling unbearably slow. She’d been driving for hours—days maybe—without seeing another soul, and then she’d stopped her car and that strange apparition had appeared and destroyed her car, and she’d started walking back the way she’d come, not actually expecting to see anyone else ever again. Yet, here was someone else; another living, breathing person; a strangely normal man in a blue Volkswagen bug, yelling at her for walking in the middle of the road.
“I think I’m going crazy,” she murmured.
“Alright,” he said, drawing out the last syllable and looking her up down. “Uh, how did you get out here? Did your car break down or something?”
“I—yes, I suppose it did,” she said after a moment of consideration. “It’s…back that way.” She gestured vaguely at the direction she’d come from.
The man pursed his lips. “Look, I know I passed a gas station a bit ago. Why don’t I give you a ride, and you can call for a tow truck?”
She shrugged, but walked towards his car anyway. After a moment, he followed her. She stared out the window as he got back on the road and pulled a u-turn. He darted brief looks at her as he drove, hands tapping nervously on the steering wheel. After a couple of minutes, he broke the strained silence.
“I’m David Brookheim.”
She started a little, then turned to look at him. He had long, curly brown hair pulled back in a ponytail. He wore jeans and a tie-dye t-shirt. He was exactly the sort of man her mother would have disdained as “a wild hippy.” If she could see her daughter now…
“And you are…?” he prompted, giving her a puzzled smile.
“Oh. Priya,” she said.
“Priya. That’s a lovely name. Nice to meet you, Priya. Oh, and here we are!”
David pulled into a tiny gas station and parked. She looked at the tiny little shop with its two pumps out front. It didn’t look familiar, and she couldn’t remember if she’d seen it on her way out.
“There’s a payphone over that way, and they might let you use the phone inside for free.”
“Thank you,” she said, finally. “For the ride.”
“No problem—I’m glad I could help. Just don’t go out walking in the middle of the road anymore, alright?”
She nodded, pushing the passenger door open and climbing out. She tried to give him a smile, but she wasn’t sure she succeeded; he didn’t look especially comforted, anyway. Nor did he immediately pull out and drive away, as she had kind of expected. He gave an awkward little wave from behind the wheel.
Steeling herself, she walked into the shop. It had a couple of chest freezers along one wall with cool drinks. Racks on the wall held gas cans, oil, flashlights, mini first aid kits, phone charging cords. There was a rack of prepaid phone cards on one section of wall; next to it was a collection of maps, under a hand-painted sign that read ‘Need a Road Atlas?’
“Can I help you?”
She turned and ice dripped down her spine. The man behind the counter was unassuming. He wore spattered blue coveralls. His hands rested in his pockets. Lank brown hair flopped down into his eyes, which had no whites, just gleaming black.
This is my (more-than-five-minute-freewrite) response to the daily freewrite hosted by 
Previous posts in this story: 1 - ash · 2 - fool · 3 - bird
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