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Sarah slammed her brakes at the sight of a sobbing boy standing in the middle of the barren road, directly in the path of her Stationwagon. It was lucky that she had thrown her foot down when she did too, for if a moment of hesitation had indeed occurred, it would have the boy completely pancaked with his bodily fluids spilling all over like syrup. Sarah shuddered; that was not an image that she fancied being stuck in her head.
She slowly opened the door, feeling that the situation was so delicate that any abrupt action would leave it completely shattered. She stepped out of the car and walked towards the boy, careful not to take her eyes off him for one second. He looked to be about seventeen. He was dressed in _______ with a facial fatigue that seemed to scream "________."