The man driver continued to pick up speed. While he concentrated on the road, Mrs. Sanders was able to free her hands from the twine, that thin type they use to bundle books. She pulled the bright red scarf out of her mouth, then considered her feet. They were duct-taped and out of reach . . . Continue Reading
Next morning Lottie joined the men kicking up dust on New Cut Road, stiff from a night on the ground and stretching their shoulder and back muscles. With her battered fedora pulled low over her face, Lottie looked at a distance like any other young hobo clomping along in work boots and overalls . . .Continue Reading
A small boat skims across the surface of a lake, an old man at the helm. His white hair flutters in the wind. He is smiling. The sun is shining. He guides the boat into a quiet alcove and kills the engine and tosses an anchor overboard. He leans over the side of the boat and peers into the emerald water as the ripples disappear and his reflection appears . . .Continue Reading
