Sarah leaned against her motorcycle where they both stood in the small lot of a drive-up café. She inhaled steam that coated her sunglasses and spread warmth over her face; the cold didn't hurt, not anymore, and Sarah wondered for how much longer she'd be able to feel the difference between sensations at all. "Tea is expensable, Barbara," Sarah said. "No," said the voice coming from the phone in Sarah's free hand. "Never has been and never will be." "You just want cider and donuts." Silence from the phone, and Sarah laughed. "I'll bring them by when I head over. Is Ben in today?" The parking lot led out onto a busy state highway; a chain-link fence stretched along it to protect pedestrians and drivers from the abrupt fifteen-foot drop on the other side. Sarah's eyes glanced over a young ...
Worlds are best when they feel heard