The Long Way Home (3)

Twenty minutes from the ferry, the road dropped down steeply and cut through the bottom of the valley. Dark, rounded silhouettes of hills leaned against the sky still glowing with the orange lights of the city. The girl didn’t talk and Dzinski didn’t have much to say either.

The road dipped again, he let the rented car coast down the hill into the little town. They drifted down empty streets, past dark, lifeless houses, and boarded-up businesses.

“Well, I can see why you left,” he said.

“You don’t know the half of it.”

He looked over and she was crying.

Prompt courtesy of the Friday Fictioneers. Read more stories here.

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6 thoughts on “The Long Way Home (3)

  1. Craig, this story has a very nice feel to it, not necessarily a nice story but a story that I want to know more about, although it feels more like the beginning of a story I’d like to read.

    janet

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