An Hour South of Nowhere

“It’s getting dark,” she said.
“Don’t worry, I will help you find your way,” he reassured her.

He tightened his hold on her hand and smiled sincerely. She looked down to his bare feet as they made contact with the coarse tarmac.

“Why do we have to hold hands?” she said.
“We just do. It’s important,” he replied.

They walked past a desolate car with a broken side window, its jagged edges framing the darkness within.

“Mind over matter is what my father says to me. It will help you get through anything. He was talking about school.”
“If only it was that simple,” he replied.

She cast him a weary eye as they approached a fork in the road.

“Do you ever get lonely walking by yourself?" he wondered.

She suddenly stopped. He turned sharply and tightened his grip onto her wrist.

“You’re hurting me,” she trembled and looked down to the shoes now on his feet.
“What’s the matter? Don’t you trust me?" He replied anxiously.
“I do but I wasn’t lost before we held hands."
“I was.”

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