Dogwood baked in the omnipotent light that seemed to have no real point of origin. Every dead weed, exposed stone and abandoned car part caught and absorbed the harsh sunlight, everything with an even coating of dust and kicked up earth. An old, beaten Expedition rumbled along the lonely strip of road, a deep, concave dent on it's left side making it more at home among the forgotten machine sheds and reliable-but-worn pickups the irrigators left at the far side of the fields they fed canal water.
The driver's face was set in a hard thousand-yard stare that was aware of place, but not time or purpose. His unfocused eyes stared out of the furrowed brow above it, accentuating the clenched jaw and slightly parted lips that mouthed along with the acoustic song wafting through the off-center speakers. His light earth brown skin betrayed the tense muscles underneath, his body trying to make up for the slack in awareness. His few shifts in movement; dusting off his worn, fading jeans or scratching his short, heat irritated hair revealed the rigidity his body responded with.
The mockingly indifferent tone of the song coming through the car's sound system stirred some memory within the young man's limited consciousness, his throat rumbling in a reflexive vocalization, "we will take everything away." tears formed in the corners of his wind blown eyes, his hand rising to wipe them away. He sighed and let up on the gas, coming to a near crawl, no drivers in sight both in front or behind him.
The car pulled to an uneven crossroads. On one corner was the thick, lush forest of evergreens and palms fenced off defensively from the far-reaching emptiness of the out of season and empty fields around it. He pulled the car onto the gravel shoulder of the road, looking down at his lap for a moment, then looking up and taking account of the area.
He immediately focused on the shaded orange stand on the opposite corner. He blinked the droplet of sweat that fell from his brown away and shook himself awake, a wave of cool numbness leaving him. He stepped out of this car and shut the door forcefully, tracing a finger along the steel grey edge of the dent on the driver's side door. He looked back towards the stand and waited, not entirely sure exactly what it was he was expecting.
The crossroads was a vacuum of still air and absent sound, only the cautious crunch of the young man's steps on gravel filled it. The old man sitting under the home-made canopy looked in the young man's direction, his eyes hidden by the deep green lenses of his aging aviators.
"Afternoon."
The younger man smiled, squinting in the abrasive light.
"Yeah, hey."
He stepped into the shade and put his hands on his hips, looking over the bags of ripe, firm oranges, the heat somehow sparing them.
"Lovely day."
He looked at the older man, his head turned in his direction.
" I know, just, no one out today."
"you look familiar."
The older man moved around a bit, the canvas and steel lawn chair under him creaking and popping. He swept a hand through his curly salt and pepper hair, a V of sweat from the bottom fold in his neck tot he mid-line of his gut, the button up shirt's black buttons like strained bolts on an expanding holding tank.
"oh, really?"
"Yeah, you have a familiar face."
"I pass here alot" the young man looked back to his car, almost willing himself back to it.
"No, no, not that kind of familiar... are you related to ... uhm."
"I'm actually a bit busy."
"Celeste Obre... Obregon?"
The young man stopped and locked his eyes on a dried orange peel near the rear tire of the old man's pickup.
"that's my Grandmother."
"Ah, see, I knew it, it was probably your look."
He mimicked the hard-set face and let out an amused laugh.
"Yeah, that's it, Celeste always had that look, man she scared the heck out of me."
"How do you know her?"
"Oh, me and her used to be good friends, hell I was almost her first-born's Nino."
The young man was completely awake now, his face softening and relaxing.
"whats your name?"
"Israel Linda, don't mind the last name."
"I've, I've never heard of you."
"No surprise."
Silence returned and ruled for a moment.
"I'm Saul, you already know my last name."
The old man glanced over and shook his hand half-heartedly, looking back out into the endless empty fields.
"You said you were busy."
Saul unconsciously recoiled from the statement. It wasn't a question, or even a reminder, it was bordering an order.
"Yeah, I need to head to El Centro"
"Well, don't let me keep you."
Saul nodded, thrown off by the sudden change he felt from the old man.
"Well, actually, I'd like to buy a bag of oranges."
The old man rose, his back and the back of his chair dark from sweat, and went to the back of the pickup, retrieving an almost bursting bag of oranges.
"Seven dollars."
Saul pulled out his wallet and removed a crisp five and two crumpled and well-worn singles, putting them into the old man's leather-rough hands.
"Thank you."
"Your welcome."
He walked with the bag of oranges and tossed them into the passenger seat, climbing in after them. The car coughed to life and resumed the morose song it had been playing earlier. Saul put the car into gear and pulled off the shoulder, giving an quick wave to the old man as he passed.
The smell of the oranges filled the car and embedded itself in the air conditioner, most likely from the cracked and bleeding orange at the top of the bag. He pressed his finger against the portion of the bag that was over the orange and felt the cool, pulpy fluid underneath.
). Also, remember to capitalize the beginnings of sentences, even if it's just dialogue.