Her pink shoes dragged on the wet pavement. To him, it felt like the sound of her heels thundered down the street, causing people to stop what they were doing and looking out their windows at him. He paused for a second and looked around. All the windows were empty, most were dark, the slight sound of shoes dragging on concrete not loud enough to be heard over the sond of rain and traffic. He got to the end of the alley and stopped again, shifting his load over to the other side so that he could reach his pocket to get the keys out. Fumbling a bit with the lock and then finally they were inside. He laid her down on the couch and went back to close the door. The alley was still empty and quiet. Turning around he went back into the room. She lay motionless on the couch. Her hair, wet from the rain, spilling out over the armrest and hanging down over the side. He wanted to pull her hair back, make her more comfortable, but instead he sat do


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blyger (joined about 12 years ago)
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