SKY
My clothes are dirty and stiff with dried mud, but I’m alive. That’s a start I can work from.
I walk for a while, my legs weak and trembling, until I see the bright glow of headlights cutting through the dark road. Desperate, I wave my arms, hoping someone will stop. For a moment, I think he won’t, but the sound of brakes squealing tells me he has. My heart leaps as a mid-sized truck slows and pulls to the side.
A man steps out, his belly rounding against his jacket. “Where you headed?” he asks.
“New York,” I manage to say, my voice small and shaky.
He nods and gestures toward the truck. “Hop in. I’ve got a delivery going that way. I’ll drop you off at Port Authority. It’s too late to be out here alone.”
Relief hits me so hard I burst into tears. I try to stop, but I can’t. The f
