There’s a man walking along the side of the highway.
He’s easy to spot, even from a distance, painting a stark figure against the farmlands stretching out on either side.
There’s an acoustic guitar strapped to his back and a large duffel hanging from one shoulder.
His jeans are faded, the bottom hems fraying over a pair of scuffed brown boots, and his vest is more fringe than vest.
Both of his exposed arms are tanned a deep golden, the left one covered in a clutter of black ink.
His mess of long brown curls, gilded in the morning light, is dotted with tiny blue and white flowers.
“Lou,” Liam starts, meaning to point him out, but when he looks over, Louis’ eyes are already locked on the man and he’s smirking around the end of his cigarette.
As he blows out the smoke, he glances over at Liam and winks.
The sounds of harmonica from the backseat cut out. Niall leans forward, propping his elbows on the back of the seat between Liam and Louis.
It isn’t that hot out, the sun still too low to start baking the earth yet, but Liam can feel the heat radiating off Niall’s bare chest. “Eh?” Niall says, peering out the windows.
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