I don't usually write about the days where we spend hours on the road. The scenery is always beautiful, and the towns we pass through are full of things to look at, but a lot of our time on the truck is spent sleeping, reading, listening to music or waiting for our next toilet stop, so there's never enough going on to justify me writing anything. Each driving day is much the same as the last. That all changed today. I don't know what time it was when the brakes slammed on and bags, bottles of water and people all flew forward in the back of the truck. I pulled my headphones out, and a child's high pitched cries replaced my music. It wasn't a continuous, steady sort of crying, but lots of cries released in
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