I stood on the cold sidewalk, the wind whipping the green silk around my knees. Our car’s headlights flickered, cutting through the autumn dusk and bathing my legs in yellow light.
He shifted into reverse, the reverse lights casting a harsh white glow on the brick wall behind the parking spaces. The tires slowly crunched over the gravel as he pulled out of the space.
I didn’t turn to see him pull out of the driveway. My mother’s pearl earrings weighed down on my neck, cold and hard, a weight that seemed to pull my chin toward the concrete.
A group of four guys walked past me from the city parking lot. Their laughter subsided as they looked at me. I lifted my chin, staring at the brass handle of the heavy wooden door, not wanting to look at them.
Would he really go back to our kitchen and leave me on the sidewalk?
