Just Right (Part 22)
Goldi: Reaching for the Star
I’d gone to the shelter to find Red, and I’d come away in a swanky ride, long luxurious lines and plush seats. The dulcet tones of deep caramel dripped from his bottle, falling into my waiting mouth, the warmth of it spreading through my body to combat his icy stare.
I’d stared through the windows, watching haggard women move between the huddled figures, passing out food and drinks, blankets. The looks between them and their charges, hands pressing together, quiet nods and tepid smiles. A word or two and then they moved on. This was Red. I could see it in their tenderness, feel her touch in their connection, just as I’d felt it in ours. How she’d touched me the first day she’d seen me, the first day I’d stepped into the 63rd Street Shelter.
What sat across from me in the stretch was nothing like her. He loomed like a shard of glass ready to fall. I touched my throat, the phantom edge tracing a line across my skin as I swallowed down the smooth elixir and held the glass out for another. Warm leather enveloped us, dulcet tones flowing from the…
