The heat is overwhelming to Lee, he can feel the sweat running down the back of his neck, the shirt he wears is sticking to his chest and it feels all so disgusting. He needs a coffee, a bowl of cereal; anything that makes him forget about the sun and this stupid hunger carved inside his stomach.

So he prays God to find a dinner — only to drive two more hours before seeing one. Where is he? He has no idea, perhaps it's Iowa, but he can't be sure.

When he gets out of the worn-out pick, the sun is ever worse. It's there, following, casting shadows on the rocky ground. Lee wants to eat and leave.

But it doesn't end up that way; the milk in his bowl is hot, the coffee isn't that good and he can hear the loud voices of two people screaming outside the dinner. He looks to the side, the window clean enough for him to see.

A father and what looks-like a young adult are fighting; hurtful words are said, tears are spilling and Lee wants to look away.

But he doesn't, perhaps because the scene reminds him of his own father. Of the way a heart can break, of the way the absence of a parent can drive someone crazy.

Before he knows it, the older man leaves, leaving you on the side of the road like a trash that was taken out. It brings anger in Lee's stomach; so he pays and leaves. It's not his style, he doesn't approach people — but for you, he does. Sitting down on the road next to you, you're crying.

"Daddy issues, uh?" he just says, seeing you flinch like you didn't see him. There's a silence after that, it's embarrassing enough for you, it's heartbreaking enough. Lee sees himself in you, and he hates that too.

"My dad was a piece of shit too." he adds, turning his head the other way around, it's his turn to be ashamed. “Want to talk about it?”

As if it was his or your fault if your fathers were shit.