52 FICTION Everybody working late always looks so annoyed. I shuffl ed up there, all bleeding and worn-out and dripping. “How can I help you, son? Somebody been hurting you? You lost?” I didn’t quite know what to say to that. “Yeah, I guess so.” “Where are you from?” “Out back in Hancock County.” “You got a way to get home, son? Anyone with you?” Boy, I wish there was. “No sir, just me. I reckon I can walk there.” He looked a bit concerned about that. I guess I wasn’t looking too good with a bloody nose and busted up eye. “How about I call someone for you. You got any family who can get you?” Well, I wasn’t about to mention Dad. I knew he was gonna kill me if he found me again. And I guess Momma is still long gone. So I thought of you next. “My big brother lives in Danville, not too far. His name’s Jeffrey Dewey. I guess maybe he could come.” “Alright son, let’s give him a call.” So, he did that and I hope you’re on your way soon. Jeffey, I think I’m ready to go home now or maybe somewhere with you. I really wanna stay with you, Jeffey. Please don’t leave me this time, alright? The nice offi cer-man gave me some paper and a fancy clicker-pen so I could write you this letter. I’m sorry about everything and I don’t think I wanna say it all out loud. I’m real tired and I miss the stars outside Chicago. Hurry on, will you? -Clay
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