I had seen her the past two mornings at the fast-food place. Both times, she sat alone, huddled around a lone cup of coffee.She was pretty in an unass...ming, girl-next-door way, her face framed by shoulder-length hair spilling from under a winter hat. She looked to be in her early twenties... slightly younger than me. From her clothes and closed-in manner, I suspected she lived on the street.Able to walk again, I dusted salt and snow off my dress coat and fished around in my pockets. I gave her. He inhaled deeply and licked the curve of her neck. “Does he buy that perfume for you? Does he like to taste it on you?” he whispered sending chills down her spine. “He hates this perfume, he thinks it smells like cinnamon. I wear it because I fucking like it,” she spat at him, “If you know him so well then you realize what this little endeavor is going to cost you.” “He’ll never know,” he hissed. Now, she was afraid. “Why do you say that?” she asked as calmly as possible and then gasped as he. More

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