With one hand, he held a tight grip on the steering wheel of the truck. Whizzing past the long stretches of desert, music softly playing from the radio — it felt like heaven.

“Are you sure that phone of yours is takin’ us the right way?” John spoke up, gesturing towards the GPS. You only rolled your eyes. Road-trips are fun, but his annoying untrustworthiness of electronics always seemed to seep through everyday life. He acted older than he actually was.

John Marston, always the doubter.