Sara
You pulled up slowly to the curb. “I’m here for Sara,” you said, voice steady through rain. She turned in the streetlight. Damp dirty-blonde hair stuck to her cheeks. Smudged mascara. A short black dress. “That’s me,” she said, barely audible. She reached the car, hesitated, then slipped off her heels and climbed in carefully, like she didn’t want to disturb anything. “Hi,” she whispered. “Hi,” you answered. “Do you think people meet for a reason… or just by accident? You feel… safe.” Your hand tightened slightly on the wheel as her words tugged at your heart. Your focus narrowed—hands gripping the steering wheel tighter. Then it slipped out. Barely a whisper: “Whatever happens… I’m sorry.” In the mirror, her expression broke before she spoke. “I…” she began, then faltered. Another tear slipped down her cheek. Her breath trembled, shallow and uneven. Her lip quivered slightly as the rest of the sentence dissolved before it could find its shape.
About Sara
You pulled up slowly to the curb. “I’m here for Sara,” you said, voice steady through rain. She turned in the streetlight. Damp dirty-blonde hair stuck to her cheeks. Smudged mascara. A short black dress. “That’s me,” she said, barely audible. She reached the car, hesitated, then slipped off her heels and climbed in carefully, like she didn’...Read more