We get up early the next morning. I feel much better, especially after sleeping with the rabbit pelt, but Nash looks like he slept miserably. I notice him tucking the pelt into his motorcycle helmet as he packs up and gets ready to leave.
“Here,” he says, tossing me my own helmet. It’s silver, not black like his, and smaller, so it’ll fit me.
“When did you get this?”
“When I was out for burritos last night.”
“Oh. Thanks.”
Nash just flashes me a tired smile in response. We check out, dropping our cactus keychains in a metal box that’s already turning hot in the morning sun.
On the way down south, we ride all the way around Joshua Tree National Park, desert wind whipping my hair back as I take in the almost alien landscape. Squat, gnarled joshua trees fill the fields, and the horizon
