Refuge — 3LineTales
The box truck’s paint was faded, with numbers on the side that meant nothing to Daryl. The old beast ran, which was the only thing that really mattered; that one truth had saved his life more times that he cared to count. So, he built a home inside the cargo area, a place of refuge from the maniac infested desert outside.
*Written as a response to the Three Line Tales week 101 photo prompt.