Grave spit out the window. There was once a time where he was too concerned to do that. Too worried he'd spit on his arm, his elbow always hanging out the window as the ancient codex of truckers demanded of him. No matter the weather, no matter the heat. If he was driving his truck, his elbow was out. The bones around his elbow that turned brown, the evidence of that.

Many complained that they had to follow these seemingly pointless rules, but not him. He knew of the true importance of those practices, even if others didn't. He wasn't even part of the inner circle but he still knew, he figured it out all by himself a long time ago.

The skeleton pulled his old leather wallet out of his front pocket and opened it. Inside was a picture of three corpses, more specifically, three skeletons. One of them seemingly belonging to an adult and the other two to children. They were all lifelessly sitting on a couch.

"God I miss my wife.", Grave said.

It would be a long time until he could go back to his family, he still had one fuck of a road to travel. He looked out the side windows of his truck. He was in an endless desert, devoid of most life. Only the toughest animals and plants able to survive the dry air and blazing sun.

Even the roads were empty. Grave couldn't even remember the last time he saw another person in this god-forsaken land. The skeleton and his truck only having themselves to comfort each other for weeks. He didn't mind and he knew his machine didn't either, he thought as he patted it affectionately.

"F-four nine, he- s- -ing eleven forty. The rodents have a tea party. Four shado-", is the only thing that came through his radio, before it started producing static noises again. The blasted thing broke down months ago. He wants to repair it, but can't find the necessary parts for it. There were not many parts that can handle a beast like his truck, so he is still in search. "Tis is life.", he reminded himself.

He turned his attention back to the road and steered a bit to the left. The steering wheel was busted too, it will always stir a bit to the right even when going in a straight line like he is. So every few minutes, he had to adjust. Leaving him with no room to relax. "But isn't this what happens all the time? None of us is perfect, we all have our mistakes and the goal of life is to balance each other out.", he said and smiled. He allowed himself to close his eyes for a second before focusing back on the road with renewed energy.

What he saw in the distance however was not what he expected. He knew these roads like the back of his bones, they were his home, so he knew for a fact the rest stop in front of him wasn't there the last time he traveled here. "People sure lose their heart easily these days… Heh, not that I can fault em.", he said to himself.

Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

He kept on driving and pulled into the parking spot of the new building. There was already a truck parking next to the building, so he claimed the spot furthest away from it as his own. As soon as his truck stopped completely, he opened the door and jumped out. A few empty beer cans were falling out of the car with him but he ignored them. Nothing was as it seemed.

His white tank top, stained with sweat, grime, and other kinds of dirt, barely able to contain his beer belly, as he walked towards the small building. He opened the door and took in the place's interior with his usual focused look. It was clean. Too clean for a place that gives comfort to people like him. If he didn't know already, this would be the last evidence he needs to confirm that this place is new.

There were only too two other people in the building. One of them was an employee. He couldn't see him, but he could feel his presence in the kitchen. A scrawny young lad, likely here from the next village to earn some pocket money that he can spend for gambling. He knew enough about rest stops to tell.

The other person was a trucker like him. He couldn't see their face, but it was clear from their long pink hair that they are not some rookie. He eyed them for a bit longer before he walked towards them and took the seat right next to them.

They were both silent for a while until the clerk came out from the kitchen when he noticed another guest had entered.

"What can I bring ya, sir?", the clerk asked.

"Give me your best breakfast menu", he replied.

"Yes sir.", the clerk said and went back to the kitchen to prepare his meal.

Grave waited on in silence, staring at the counter, when the stranger next to him started talking, "Ever been to the beach?"

"No, but I've been to the desert. Pee in the sand and it may as well be a beach."

The stranger turned towards Grave. She was a catgirl with a tanktop like his. In front of her was a full glass of strawberry milk with a green straw in it. Her face was hard and her elbows brown, a true trucker like him.

"A beach is only a beach if it carries the memories of people.", she told him, before looking out of the window again. They both stayed silent, as Grave waited for his meal.

Not too long after, the boy returned and put Graves food in front of him. Hard-boiled eggs with mashed potatoes and broccoli, "Here you go sir"

Not hesitating a second, the skeleton devoured his meal in mere seconds. The clerk was shocked at the speed he ate his food, the pink-haired trucker was unmoved.

Wiping his mouth with his tank top, Grave pulled a $5 bill out of his wallet, without even pulling the wallet out of his pocket, and slammed it on the desk. "Keep the change."

He stood up from his seat and walked towards the door. Right as he opened it, the clerk called back to him, "Sir, the breakfast menu is $6.99."

"Put it on my tab.", Grave said, "A true man has to prove himself to the world. This… will be mine.", Grave replied and left the building without looking back once. The clerk was dumbfounded, but the pink-haired trucker just smiled.

Grave entered his vehicle and started driving. The road was waiting for him.

---

"Anyway, I think that's what it would be like if we were both truckers.", Grave said to Nyam. With his story finished, he went back to weight lifting on his side of their shared room.

Nyam just blinked at him. She was sitting on her bed, reading a book, while the skeleton was exercising. Out of nowhere it suddenly stopped, to tell her this weird trucker story for 10 minutes. She didn't understand the story at all and is now just sitting there confused.

"…why are you weight lifting? You don't have muscles."