Vagrancy
Page 31
He picks me up with his good arm, takes us back to the carriage. Takes us inside it.
When our breathing slows and our lips part, Dean lies us down on the hard floor. I find all the places that my body can connect with something of his. “I love you.”
“I loved you first.”
But he didn’t. I smile up to the decaying roof.
From here, I can pretend that the train is slowly swaying, moving us forwards. Pummelling through the forests and away. I can pretend that we are the only ones left, and that the world is peaceful.
Vagrants, riding a train to nowhere. To everywhere.
For the moment, it is enough.
Tomorrow, there will have to be more.
Author’s Note
To the reader, thank you for taking a chance on a strange book by a stranger.
To my husband, my children, my parents, my sisters and my friends…
My thanks to you won’t fit in a book.
You can contact the author at: staceymacbooks@gmail.com