They would split off in twos soon, head for their own neighborhoods and families and homework and dinners. But she’d walk alone through a strip of woods and down a gravel lane to the ranch house with the white fences—a latchkey kid on a quiet stretch of road. He finished his sandwich, dusted off his hands, and dropped the bag in the trash bin. He didn’t hurry. There was plenty of time. Today it was about the dream—how it would go, what he’d say to her, the way her smile beaconed, *Take me, take me*. DONT TALK TO STRANGERS (Bantam July 1st)
Posted on: Thu, 12 Jun 2014 15:53:17 +0000