07/11/2026
I honestly thought the worst part about picking up a hitchhiker would just be the awkward small talk. But it wasn’t. It started so normal. We pulled into a gas station and I just wanted to quickly grab something. Didn’t think twice, left him in the truck for a minute. When I got to the counter, my heart dropped. No wallet. I just stood there for a second, feeling my face get hot. People behind me, cashier waiting, and I had to do that awkward “sorry, I’ll be right back.” I walked out trying to play it cool but inside I was already annoyed at myself. When I got back to the truck, everything looked fine. Wallet was still there. Nothing was gone. But something felt… off. You know that feeling when nothing is wrong, but your gut just doesn’t sit right? I couldn’t explain it, so I just brushed it off and kept going. Until the next day. I realized I never turned off my cam. And suddenly I wasn’t guessing anymore. That weird feeling made sense. And honestly… that was the worst part. Because my truck isn’t just a truck. It’s where I spend most of my time. It’s my space. My routine. My little version of “home” on the road. And realizing that someone I let in for a short ride made it feel different… I don’t know. It just didn’t feel like mine anymore for a moment. And that stuck with me way more than it should have. So yeah… I don’t pick up hitchhikers anymore. ❤️‍🩹
