I watched his pickup truck kick up dirt as I stood on the side of the road. The ringing of him yelling “get out!” continued in my ears until his tires disappeared into the horizon. I rubbed my eyes, tears collecting at the brim of my waterline were tainted with dirt and dust. I looked beside me. My little sister was crouched down, staring at a snail that was moving its way towards his truck. She reached down and stuck out one finger before caressing its shell. I sighed and looked down both sides of the road, one way I had already travelled, the other I had yet to. I turned back to my sister as she pulled on my dress, signalling for me to come inspect the snail with her. I looked not at the creature that captivated her attention, rather, I was staring at the way her big eyes rarely blinked and how strands of her unkempt hair laid across her face.
I took her delicate hand, stuck out one finger, and placed in on the ground in front of the snail’s path. The snail crawled onto it, and as my sister gasped in awe I picked her up and began my way down the road, knowing that I would not see his tires in the horizon any time soon.
(this is one of the stories from a book I am currently writing, hopefully the full collection of stories and poems will be published by the end of the school year.)