I ask, trying to sound cheerful. Her face is so pinched up and red from crying I have half a mind to turn around, right there, and walk the hundreds of miles through sand back. I could carry her a little ways, but not enough to make a difference. The audience hears the truck coming before the pair on the screen does. A few muffled cheers erupt in the darkness, followed by half-embarrassed snickers.
Someone eats up and heads to the back to the theater, towards the snack food stand.
Their silhouette blots the white of the screen for a second, just enough to be irritating. The old green Ford pulls up to the woman and child. A large face with a furry beard attached pokes out of the window. He politely turns his head before spitting a large stream of brown tobacco juice onto the road. The woman looks down at the ground, trying not to look disgusted.