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“We’re stranded,” my father begged. “Send money.”
“You said I wasn’t family,” I replied. “Strangers don’t pay.”
I hung up.
Unplugged the phone.
The silence felt like peace.
Morning sunlight.
Burnt pancakes.
Sticky syrup.
A bank alert:
Attempted Charge: Greyhound Bus Lines — Declined.
I called a locksmith.
“All the locks,” I said.
I watched Lily laugh.
I wasn’t a bad daughter.
I was free.
The End.
I do not look back after the hotel vanishes behind the bend of the coastal road. The Gulf Shores night slides past the …
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