LONG-HAULER SLEEPER

Red neon light twitched through the window, up where the worn drape didn't quite meet the wall. Linda leaned on an elbow and watched the flicker on Rick's bare shoulder. “Do you really love me?”

Rick forced his left eye open. “Uh -- I sure did there a minute ago.”

“Rick, I'm serious.”

“So am I.”

Linda swung her legs off the bed, sat up and stared at the wet gleam on her inner thighs. “I mean, where are we going?”

“Dunno about you, but I'm goin' to sleep.”

“For chrissake.” She stood and padded toward the bathroom.

Rick rolled his head on the pillow. “Nice ass.”

She paused, turned her head and wiggled. “How'd you like to kiss it?”  

The door slammed.

Breakfast Special eggs steamed up at them. Rick pawed a fork around on his plate. “I woke up and you were gone -- didn't mean to make you mad. I was just tryin' to be funny.”

Linda smirked. “Nice try. ‘The truth oft times is spoke in jest.' ” 

“It's too damn early for your literary crap. You know that ain't true -- I'm savin' up for our future.”

“Ha! You're saving up for a new Mack 6 by 4 Sleeper Long-hauler with a 10-speed transmission. Some future.”

“I get that truck and we've got the world by the nuts on a downhill pull.”

Linda stabbed at a clump of scrambled eggs. “Downhill? Twelve hours a day staring out a windshield -- CB babble, greasy burgers and grubby motels.”

“Look, I was a long-haul trucker when you met me.”

She dropped her fork and slid out of the booth. “YOU look -- You're a damn trucker. I'm not.”

“Sit down -- yer eggs are gettin' cold.”

“So are you.” 

Linda marched past the cashier and didn't look back.

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