by Bob Thurber
We had been walking and hitching rides for three days but hadn't gotten very far. About 200 kilometers.
Eve was tired and so was I, so we stopped for a bite. The place was packed, the counter too crowded, so we took a booth. The sassy waitress wrote nothing down. When our food came it didn't look anything like the pictures displayed on the menu board. I started to get up to complain when a man sat down next to me and said, "You done playing runaway?" He didn't look at me. He focused on Eve. I didn't know who he was, or where he'd come from, but she didn't seem surprised. She nodded slow and sombre and picked up her purse. She glanced at me quick, then lowered her eyes. "I'm sorry, Adam," she said. Then she slid out of the booth and I never saw her again.
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