Road Blues

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I wrote this story two years ago. This story is also edited in a book "10x10 Microrelats". This book was edited by "La Quàdriga" and it contains stories hung in www.relatsencatala.cat.
(a web which contains stories in catalan language. Catalan is the language of Catalunya. If you want to know anything about cataluya: What Catalunya is?.)
And now my story. I hope, grateful, your corrections and opinions.

ROAD BLUES

Jerry has never picked up a hitch-hiker so young.
-Where do you go?
-Towards California.
A swarm of freckles surround her nose. Her hair is red; her eyes are blue; her face, pale.
-What's your name?
-Eileen.
They stop in a petrol station.
An old man approaches them.
-Do you go to the west?
-To Sacramento.
-The motor coach has gone away without me, and I haven't enough money for the motel.

The Chevrolet runs along the desert road. Wind makes spin crowded branches, as if they were strange rolling balls. By nightfall, landscape becomes phosphorescent.
-What's your job, Jerry? –Eileen asks.
-I'm a manager.
-I'm an actress -she says.
Suddenly, the vault of sky gets in red-hot. The Wind stops. The Flatness is dyed in orange light.
-My God! –Eileen exclaims, gazing at horizon.
-Indescribable. -the old man adds.
They leave the car and walk into the desert. They sit on the ground. The old man takes out a mouth organ and plays a Willy Nelson's melody.
-I must confess one thing –Jerry says, scratching his head -. I've been untruthful. I've really lost my job. My wife has left me, and I don't know where I am going.
-I haven't told the truth either -Eileen says -. I've run away from home.
-Well... in my case, my daughter has deserted me in the petrol station -the old man explains. His eyes are open as dishes.
Some instants go by. The situation is full of uncertainty. Then, suddenly, they start to laugh like sillies.
-And now...? –asks Jerry.
-Let's play another song... –says the old man.
Red light of sky is toning down. A deep nostalgia covers wilderness.