She could see the golden blush of sunset in the rearview mirror, and lacy gold interspersed with shadows on the stacks of hay next to the truck. She sat in the vehicle, listening to the only radio she owned.
"Out of this world," the singer crooned. "You take me all the way out to the cosmos, spinning as we go; butterfly wings and delicate things; loop-de-loops and ferris wheels; you take me all the way to gone..."
She closed her eyes, imaging double stained glass wings soaring into the vast blackness of space, illuminated suddenly by a shooting star. The music was haunting and ethereal and sweet, and it took her to the place of Love and endless dreams...
Then she opened her eyes again, looking once more at the magical light of the setting sun in the rearview mirror. A yellow sheet on the clothesline fluttered in the breeze, melding with the golden light, as if the light somehow came from it.
A brightness showed in the space it vacated as it danced in the wind, and it was from there he seemed to come, growing bigger and closer, until he was walking toward the truck, the mellow light making him a silhouette against the brilliance.
She gave a slight gasp. She wasn't expecting any visitors today out here in the boonies, and she hadn't heard a vehicle come up the long dirt driveway.
She turned to see if anything was parked behind her. Nothing.
He must have parked on the road, or come by foot.
Then she turned toward the clothesline, and gasped again. The space in front of it was filled with yellow light, but otherwise empty.
Frowning, and feeling slightly strange, she looked absently at the seat next to her in the truck.
Then she looked again at the rearview mirror. A visceral thrill moved through her center. The figure was standing still, but began to move toward her truck again.
She watched, riveted to the mirror. When he was very close to her back window, she turned again, sure she would see his torso through the window.