After the death of her father tore her family apart, Danielle decided to take a road trip. (This is my first draft)
Intense heat radiated off every part of the rusty old car. Leaning against the side with her arms on the roof, Danielle searched the air around her for some relief. Rain was only a memory; she tried to remember what it felt like to to be cold. The goose bumps she'd gotten the past few days were from a sexy kiss or a dallop of ice cream running down her chest. Now, she licked her lips and found that heat had stolen the moisture even from her tounge. With a deep sigh, Danielle faced the beaming rays, squintin down the endless road and trying to hear the rumbling of tires on asphalt. With her eyes closed, she imagined a BMW, glistening in the sun and her prince charming at the wheel.
Her mother had warned her about this unreliable old heap, she thought, but she just couldn't stay away from the challenge. California was calling her name and she just had to go before anyone told her how bad of an idea it was. She could almost hear her father's voice echoing in the dry air, but she could barely see his face now. Glacin downward, she caught her reflection in the car window. She always joked about being adopted, because, besides their ski-slope noses, Danielle and her mother shared nothing. Secrets, or lack of truth, had left a deep scar on their relationship.
Danielle squinted and let her forhead wrinkle into a mess. Tan and toned, Danielle still prided herself on her athleticism, but what she wished for now was an immense knowledge of automobiles. The middle of nowhere, inronically, had never felt like more of a realistic cliche. She was in the equivalent of the country back home, except manure didn't burn your nose and a chill was a dip to 75 degrees. Light flooded her eyes as she watched the glimmering mirages hang low over the orange sand. Her attempt to block out the sun with dark shades was futile. By the end of the next minute, she had made up her mind to walk in the direction she was already headed.
Danielle expressionless, strode along a dirty road winding through the desert, with only half a Nalgene bottle full of water and a half-charged cell phone. She wondered why she had always seemed to be just a bit short, on gas, on happiness, on love. Her tired mind went back to a point in time when life had been cool and refreshing. She tasted watermelon, even remebered the vibrant green color of the fruit before her father strong hands had sliced it.
Having the strangest and most cruel memory, Danielle seemed to remember the least signifigant days or even moments of her life. She knew that when she was in Pre-K she had loved the swings and the way they made her fel lighter. The higher she swung, the farther she left the ground, and the more she defied gravity.
Beyond her memories, Danielle had garnered a series of silly momentos including cards from when she turned ten, mini-stuffed animals from McDonalds and pieces of paper graffitied with sayings and proverbs. When she was little, she would wear her father's big sweaters, just because they seemed to be more comfy than her cutesy little dresses. These sweater were now stored in boxes alon side her childhood momentos.
Recalling the comfort of her fathers sweater, she looked down at her high heels and felt remotely foolish. Danielle remembered the time she had first worn heels, it was in sixth grade and she had wanted so badly to get her crush's attention. With her hair pulled back in a tight bun, she had walked down the aisle at 6th grade graduation trying to look confident. Danielle rememebered the pictures later, how there had been a real emptiness in her eyes. That, she thought, is what it looks like when someone tries to hide themselves; their expression mixes with confusion, never flattering.
The most farmiliar feeling she recognized in the swealtering heat was the unbelievable urge to cry, or scream. It was like the time she was seven and she had slammed her sister's finger in the car door. Her sister had screamed, awakening her lungs with unbelievable power. In this moment, Danielle wanted to feel that power, only nothing was making her that angery or alive. The heat was roasting her thoughts, blurring the last ten years of her life into a mess, a mirage. The more she wanted tears to pour down her faced, the more she struggled to come up with a reason. Stuck in the desert alone, Danielle could not think of a real reason to be upset or even flustered.
She imagined what she must look like, a tall young girl with shiny lip gloss and heels walking down a dusty road. With a static wobbly shape, her shadow proved that her hair was a mess and her cloths clinging uncomfortably to her imperfect figure. Like every moment in her life, Danielle had taken this conflict without passionate emthusiasm or angst. It was hot and it was sad but she was just wandering in the desert with a mission as blurry as the landscape. Her feet were hot and tired, yet the comfort was that she had found a new memory. Ten years down the road she would stop and wonder, how did I end up here? It wouldn't matter though, the how, because she was well aquainted with being unorigional. Stranded in the desert, Danielle thought as she approaced the grimmy gas station, how much more cliche would life get? Then she wondered, how accidental it was that she gotten herself here, afterall that rusty old Neon was bound to fail on her. Maybe, she had subconsciously decided that it was best to live out the cliches instead of assuming she knew what'd it be like. Atleast now, when she could feel the sweat collecting and eveaporting on her skin, she could appreciate all things cold as ice.

Interesting. . .what happens next?