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  • “What are you doing, anyway?” he asks, freckles, blue eyes, smile.
    “Well, I had this idea to walk from Asheville to Columbus. But then I decided to walk to D.C. instead.”
    “You trying to walk? Seriously?” his eyes make a story of her, “Where do you sleep?”
    "I only left yesterday. And I slept in the mountains last night, on someone’s land.”
    “They didn’t mind?”
    “They didn’t know. I left pretty early this morning.”
    “You walked all the way here from Asheville?”
    “No. Some Canadians drove me here from the Blue Ridge Parkway. I’m not very good at walking.”
    “I guess not. You looked pretty laid up out there." His head tilts a little. "I mean, if you want me to drop you off again so you can get back to it..."
    “No," she smiles at her jeans, "it is actually really hot outside.”
    “Not very good at walking."
    They drive a minute in silence, the world passing through the windows, the air between them strange and easy.
    "I’ve never done anything like this before. Never picked up a hitchhiker.”
    “I’ve never tried to walk across a state before. But I do appreciate the ride.”
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