She wasn’t thumbing a lift, she was just standing there.
He pulled up because of what he saw. She was only young, maybe thirteen or fourteen. It was night time and pitch black. That particular road into town had no street lights. It wasn’t much more than a lane. It was a cold night. Apart from all that, she only had a white slip on and bare feet! He wound down his window.
She looked very pale.
He asked if she needed any help. She said no but a lift would be good and next moment she was in the back seat looking at him in the rear vision mirror.
“Where to?” he asked.
“Seventeen Bancroft Avenue,” was all she said.
He knew where that was and moved off. He knew that part of town and it wasn’t much out of his way. He glanced at her reflection from time to time. She didn’t speak again.
As he entered the avenue, he began looking at numbers. He pulled up at seventeen. Letting her know they had arrived, he turned to look. The back seat was empty.
He couldn’t help but notice the cemetery on the other side of the street.
It seems that sometimes even these… whatever they are, need a lift.