mandolynxo68
His story was scripted. She could tell. He looked her in the eyes almost daring her to call him a liar, a fabricator. She smiled and outwardly accepted the story. Inside her mind was whirring. "Okay," she said to him and smiled. He smiled, but it was not a smile of relief. It was a smile of victory.
The tree branch snapped under her feet. "Shit!" She hissed, and quickly tried to breathe the words back into her, unheard. She walked like she was taught, heel to toe, creeping along the edge of the woods. Trying to find a way in and out of the field that illuminated her presence to the world.
He took all of his worldly possessions with him out the door. It wasn't much. A change of clothes, dress shoes, a few books, a wallet full of nothing, and of course his favorite old hat. That hat he wore everywhere. And this time was no different. Yes he was leaving his old life, but some things needed to stay the same. He didn't know if he could handle everything being different, after all. He would keep what he could, and discard the rest.