He arrived on the edge of summer when the trees began to turn, their crowns the hue of honey.
Dipped and dove around like it hurt to hold eye contact.
He scanned the bustling diner—again.
Ordered eggs, then retreated to the parking lot—again.
Took a long look at the Mazda’s white fender. A little longer this time.
Maggie watched him, eyes blinking furiously as they scanned metal.
She already felt the cold in her bones, the thick darkness.
She brought his order, her smile a tight red line. Maggie paused then walked away, rubbing the smooth scar, listening to the screams.
Grey Sparrow Journal 