As she’d walked she thought; maybe going home to wasn’t the right thing to do. Her resolve had waned and she’d sagged to the verge, tired and dirty propping her head in her hands. Tendrils of bleached blonde hair hanging in her face. Thinking looked back along that impossibly long street and trying to work out how far she’d come.

Was it further to go on or go back?

She snapped open her cheap plastic purse and pulled out the faded and crumbled picture of Zachary. His smile was as big as any ocean and it lit up her mood like drawing the curtains back from the sun. A salty tear rolled silently across her cheek landing with a tiny ‘plop’ on knee high plastic boots that were held up with a safety pin.

So she only had a twenty, she was going home to be a mommy to her boy. As if by way of thanks the universe sent a big red truck to help her.

She hopped in.

She was going home.

The driver had a warm smile, a kind face and was handsome too, (Maybe she could double her money after all). Chestnut brown hair. Slightly lined bluey grey eyes, straight bright white teeth. Excitement bubbled in her veins.

Home - it was like a high all of its own, without costing her anything.

He was dressed for church in winter; collar and tie with a woollen vest over the top. His trousers were full length and ironed with a sharp crease along the front. She could not see his shoes but would have bet her last twenty that they were sturdy, black leather and highly polished.

She’d mixed with her fair share of sleazy types. Crack heads and pimps. Punters and even the occasional psycho. He was defiantly none of the above. She knew she need not worry with him.