Deserted

A woman rolled out of bed and landed in the desert. The air was hot and dry, and her throat stung with dehydration. The fiery sand stabbed at her like needles beneath her feet. Tiny grains weasled their way into her mouth, burning cavities in the enamel. Her head pulsated with the symptoms of a hangover and the pounding electrobeats of the night before. With only half a bottle of water in her satchel, she began her way down the desert path. She could have retraced the steps back to her mattress, but she was too far along down the dune now to remember that she had one. Two hours passed, and like a robust angel, a portly man driving an ATV crossed the horizon to holler at her. She looked at him without a word. “You are nowhere near where you need to be!” he yelled, and sped off, laughing maniacally. She tried to curse back, but the sand had filled her lungs and began overflowing out her mouth. With heavy disappointment, she stopped in her tracks. Everything had been in vain. She began to dig a ditch in the ground with her now empty water bottle. She laid in the ditch, and fell into a deep sleep, patiently waiting for the next scene to arrive.