The road stretches endlessly into the horizon, a ribbon of asphalt cutting through an unforgiving landscape. He stands at the edge of it, a shadow against the blinding expanse, the brim of his hat casting secrets across his face. No name. No past. Just the quiet hum of an engine idling in the distance—his only tether to the world he left behind.
Was he running from something, or toward it?
The desert has a way of swallowing men whole, erasing footprints like whispers lost to the wind. He knows this all too well. A deal gone wrong. A name spoken in the wrong room. The kind of trouble that lingers long after the dust settles. Now, he waits—watching, listening. Somewhere down that empty road, fate is closing in, just like it always does.
Some men disappear. Others become legends.
This piece is for those drawn to mystery, for the ones who find beauty in the unknown and understand that the past never really stays behind.
