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Connie was in the back seat of their car. She desperately searched the streets in hopes of catching someone’s eye, but there were no eyes to catch — stupid rain. Maybe the green bus. Surely someone would be on it. If only they’d have pulled up next to it.
They kept going and the neighborhoods deteriorated.
The street names weren’t familiar; the houses were rundown and defaced with gang symbols. Connie could sense the despair of the neglected dwellings.
Perhaps it was her own despair she was feeling.
If she lived through this, she swore to God she’d never hitchhike again.
Ergo, the Ogre 
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