Road apples

The truck bounced over the old road and Pintu felt every hole on his sore tail. The farmer had said in a broken English that the town was just over the hill, but he had been riding in this truck bed for at least 30 miles. When he was about to ask how much longer, the truck’s brakes squeaked to a halt. Dust swallowed them. The farmer waved to Pintu from within the cab and Pintu jumped out. As the truck turned off, Pintu saw no town, no houses, just a lone tree and some fallen apples on the road.