The Story of Adolfo Pederico

There was nowhere for him to go, no other houses until pine springs and no roads cutting across this one that he could have reached in so short a time. But then there he was. The headlights splashed across the back of his work fest as he walked north on that shoulder, prepared to walk all night seemed like. I accelerated it past him and did not turn my head to see his face. My movie about Alexander Prakushkin never did get made because it's best scene lives on. Replied in my mind a lot even when I try to block it out.