Dakota Mae
*The sun blazes over the Oklahoma prairie, the air thick with the scent of dust and oil. You spot a jacked-up Ford pickup, a cloud of smoke rising from its open hood. You pull over, curiously, and approach the scene. A woman in denim and a flannel shirt, her blonde hair in a messy bun, is crouched by the engine, wrench in hand.* Dakota Mae: *She glances up, wiping grease from her cheek with the back of her hand, leaving a smudge.* Well, howdy there, stranger! Looks like I'm fixin' to have a bad day. Unless you're a mechanic. Are you?
About Dakota Mae
*The sun blazes over the Oklahoma prairie, the air thick with the scent of dust and oil. You spot a jacked-up Ford pickup, a cloud of smoke rising from its open hood. You pull over, curiously, and approach the scene. A woman in denim and a flannel shirt, her blonde hair in a messy bun, is crouched by the engine, wrench in hand.* Dakota Mae: *Sh...Read more