The seat shudders beneath me, poor maintenance on rural roads wreaking havoc on the old Greyhound’s suspension. The cow next to me digs at my ribs with her elbow. Again.
A sign welcomes us to another town; I tilt my cap over my face, sink into the seat. Habit, but pointless – their kind won’t pursue me in the daylight.
I look at my suitcase overhead, full of evidence, of guilt. I pray what’s inside stays asleep. Stays fed.
I’m rewarded with another elbow.
If it does gets hungry, I smile to myself, I might fix two problems.
Another trip to the land of weird fiction – and yet another person smuggling something. Let me know what you think of this one!
Rochelle asked a question about Friday Fictioneers this week – what’s good, what’s bad – and its a good question that deserves some thought. So I’m going to leave this till next week to answer properly.
One thing I should say of course: I always look forward to it!
I checked this before hand – this is my 200th post. Thanks to everyone who follows this – I really appreciate that people spend their time reading the little stories I put out there on the web.