The sound of tires on the cracked, uneven asphalt hummed under the protagonist’s truck as he navigated his usual route. He had done this hundreds, maybe thousands, of times before—each stop, each turn, each delivery a rhythm he could perform without thinking. It was his life, or at least, what he considered it. A life of repetition, of mundane tasks that provided a small, modest sense of stability. No real highs, no real lows—just the soft hum of survival.

The sun hung low in the sky, casting a golden hue over the quiet roads. His body felt heavier than usual today. His legs ached with an unfamiliar fatigue, and the back of his head throbbed, a dull reminder that he hadn’t been able to sleep much the night before. The monotony of his days had begun to settle deeper into his bones, and today, it seemed to sting just a little more.

He passed by the usual landmarks—an old gas station on the left, a rundown diner where he never stopped, and the small corner shop that sold cheap snacks for truckers. It was a route that, in many ways, felt more like a ghost of a life than anything real. He didn’t think about it much—he couldn’t afford to.

By mid-afternoon, the route had taken him to the outskirts of town, where the quiet roads stretched endlessly between patches of trees and scattered houses. As he rounded a curve, he noticed a figure standing at the roadside—a girl, no older than sixteen or seventeen, with dyed blonde hair and an outfit that clashed brightly with the muted surroundings. She raised a hand in a casual wave, signaling for a ride.

He slowed the truck, his mind flickering with hesitation. Picking up hitchhikers wasn’t part of the job, but this wasn’t the first time someone had needed help on this stretch of road. The girl climbed in without much ceremony, settling into the passenger seat with a sigh. Her presence filled the cabin with an energy that was both unsettling and oddly familiar.

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“Thanks,” she muttered, barely meeting his eyes as she adjusted her seatbelt. Her voice was tired, but not unfriendly.

“No problem,” he replied, his voice rasping slightly from hours of disuse. He turned back to the road, letting the silence stretch between them.

As the truck picked up speed again, he stole a glance at her. Something about her nagged at the back of his mind, like a tune he couldn’t quite place. It wasn’t her clothes, or her hair, or even her demeanor—it was something deeper. A faint, inexplicable sense that he’d seen her before, though he knew that was impossible.

“Where are you headed?” he asked after a few minutes, more to fill the quiet than anything else.

“Just into town,” she replied, her eyes fixed on her phone. “Not far.”

He nodded, focusing back on the road. He couldn’t shake the feeling, though. The way she sat, the way her hand rested on her lap—it all felt familiar in a way that made his skin crawl. He wanted to ask her if they’d met before, but the words caught in his throat. It didn’t matter. He didn’t need to know.

The rest of the drive was uneventful, save for the occasional glance she cast his way, as if she were trying to figure him out as much as he was her. When they reached the edge of the city, she thanked him again, slipping out of the truck without waiting for a response. He watched her walk away, disappearing into the crowd, and for a moment, he was left staring at the empty seat she’d left behind.

It wasn’t until later, as he lay in bed, that the feeling returned in full force. The memory of her face, her voice—it lingered in his mind like a ghost, as if some part of him knew her even if his conscious mind couldn’t make sense of it. The more he tried to push it away, the stronger it stuck, until eventually, he drifted into a restless sleep, plagued by the echo of her presence.