Voltaic Junkyard--cusp

   
   "Voltaic Junkyard--cusp"
   
   Sheila had sincere empirical evidence that Adam drifted away; specifically, just a thumb, flashing it illegally, in most states, on the asphalt ballet of self-driven cars; however, there are still a few truckers swift in the radical reflexes.  The boy had made a soft exodus from his heritage, though--to never forget, head not low, neither crowned with superiority, just a seeker, finally inheriting his portion of a protracted vacation, wending his wild way into the American West, hoping cowboys still had good hearts, and that barrel-racing girls might fancy his features, give him a loving lasso, and be a little more tame than Bonanza Jellybean.  
   Sheila smiled at his courage, making a noble attempt to finally separate himself from her guardian fists.  And now, what would be her purpose?  No little brother to pamper and spoil, left all alone with a goofy dog and a plethora of wrecked automobiles.  She breathed.  The easiest thing to do in life, not minding the toxins, the metallic particles, nor the fact that she was a frigid asexual.
  It didn't matter anymore.  Her only purpose in life now--to survive.  And she would.  Some lonely guy witnessing her lean muscles at the grocery market would always have her image in his heart, and while she didn't exactly know--she could feel the love, here and there, between Earth's magnetic poles.