Come Away

I leap down the steps and land on the street before the bus door can open fully. An old lady is watching me from the bench at the stop so I turn my back to her as I scan over the bus route plastered on the side of the bench overhang.

According to the map, I'm right where I need to be. Before my feet start down my new path, I catch a glimpse of my reflection on the overhang wall. My gray eyes are wide, darting from one feature to the next in quick, calculated movements.

Black jacket, check. Cargo pants, check. Sandy, chest-length hair pulled off my face where I can't be bothered with it, check. A backpack with everything left to my name stored inside, check.

Pulling my hood over my head, I duck inside the shelter as sirens blare past. They aren't searching for me now, but I know they will be soon enough. When the police car disappears around the bend, my sneakers meet the dampened cement at a steady pace.