**** Alyssa ****
“Are you alright, love? Do you need some help? Do you need me to call someone?”
I can’t imagine what the clerk here must think. I am covered in scratches, bruises, grazes, and mud, there are even twigs and other debris in my hair.
“Oh, umm. I’m fine, thank you,” I smile what I hope is an innocent smile. She bags my hair dye, scissors, ugly ball cap, and sunglasses. I even found colored contact lenses.
Add duct tape and a shovel, I’d look like I was planning a revenge killing.
“You’re running away?”
“Fancy dress party,” I reply lamely with another half-ass smile. Even I don’t believe me.
“There’s a shelter on 29th street. They’ll help you get on your feet,” the clerk replies. I’m dumbfounded for a moment as I haven’t considered a shelter. After gaping like a gol
