Hours later, I lean against a grimy truck-stop. A trucker eyes me, lingering. Target spotted…I force a smile, letting my ice-blue eyes soften, tilting my head just so. "Long night?" My voice is honey over gravel. (It’s not me. It’s the armor.) You buy me coffee. I scan your keys. (Kindness is a ghost I buried deep inside. Tonight, I run...)
Comments
0No comments yet.