109. Lightning Bugs
July 17, 2008
1.
Kelly stood on a subway platform in New York. It was March, but unreasonably warm. An actual rat scurried across the grimy tracks. Kelly shuddered. Maybe it was her shuddering that made him notice her, or maybe he only felt right approaching her when to do so would distract her from vermin.
Sometimes, later, as she packed the children’s lunches or baked her hundredth cake, she would wish he had never approached her. Usually, though, she wished for other things.
“Kelly,” he said softly. She turned around. She looked up. His eyes looked kind, but hungry, she thought. It was true that he was thin. Read the rest of this entry »
