21
Stitching The Soul
The bus was nearly empty as she stepped aboard. The driver held out his hand. “This is number two seventy-seven, to Galveston.”
“Yes, thank you,” Peyton said as she displayed her ticket.
She studied the few faces as she shuffled down the narrow aisle, looking for anything familiar. The smell on the bus invoked memories of her high school locker room. As she took her seat, in the second to the last row, the bus driver called out to the platform. “Number two seventy-seven, Galveston. Departs in one minute.”
Peyton began to worry. Perhaps he wasn’t coming. As the bus engine started and began to pull out, her heart sank. But ten minutes later, a husky voice from behind her whispered. It came from in between her seat and the empty one next to her.
“Don’t turn around.
