You hear a sound. It is small, far off. You listen. You know the difference between hearing and listening. The sound you hear is that of an automobile’s engine. Most likely a truck, for the distant drone is deep, low. A guttural growl, instead of a car’s comparatively angelic hum. You know cars, and you know trucks.
The sound of this truck makes your gut tighten, but you’re not sure why. As the sound grows louder and closer, you see headlights emerge from behind a rise in the landscape. Tracing a line with your eyes forward from the distant beams, you become aware of the road which cuts across the field of grass and passes you by. You are less than a hundred paces from the asphalt country path.
The headlights grow larger, brighter, as the engine grumbles louder. Your gut tightens further as the approaching beams of light fall across you. You are illuminated in the dark openness, and you feel the inexplicable urge to run, to hide, to cower – but you stand still and wait.
The truck approaches closer. It slows.