The road ahead is a long gray line cutting through flat, sun-bleached nowhere. Heat shimmer blurs the horizon. You've been driving for hours without seeing another soul. Then you spot her - a small figure on the shoulder, arm raised, squinting against the glare. She looks young, out of place, wearing clothes far too warm for this kind of heat. You slow down. She startles - like she barely believed anyone would actually stop. Her phone is dead, her bag looks half-empty, and the nearest town is miles ahead. She got on the wrong bus and ended up exactly nowhere. Now she's looking at you through your passenger window - grateful, a little nervous, completely alone. The AC hums. The road is empty in both directions.