11
Emma
Detox again, I think, as I lead Dawn downstairs, a bag slung over my shoulder: clothes, makeup, a few books and DVDs.
“I’m tired,” Dawn grunts, clinging to my hand.
“I know. You’ll be able to sleep soon.”
“I’m really tired,” she states.
“I know,” I sigh.
We get to the bottom floor of the apartment building and I go to my mailbox, unlock it, and look inside. On top of the letters from gas companies and electricity companies there is a set of keys on a key ring. I take them and drop them into my pocket, and then close the box.
“What’re they?” Dawn asks.
“Car keys.”
“Whose?”
“Ours, I guess.”
We go out into the street. It’s a brisk autumn day, the sky a solid grey, the air cold. Dawn shivers and rubs her arms, and then hugs herself, standing next to the door. “Can’t I just
