POV: Joseph
Clouds cover the sun as I tug the brim of my baseball cap. Today, I'm in a park fifty miles away from Moore. I sit on a bench, alone, and drink coffee as I watch children play on the monkey bars.
My shoulders slump.
Maxwell.
It's been a month since I've seen him--and that includes the week when Elizabeth missed our exchange. Although I try not to torture myself with thoughts of what Elizabeth could be saying to him, those thoughts persist.
I shake my head as I compare Dean and Elizabeth. But, yes, I can understand why Dean was obsessed with race. He was a biracial man pretending to be a white man.
However, what's Elizabeth's problem with race? Is it as simple as Maxwell's tanned skin?
A woman with a stroller walks past.
A man jogs past me with a dog racing with him. The
