The Riveter

He said nothing, and didn’t pull a pack from his pants pocket the way she’d hoped. Instead, he just stared at her, in that ravenous way of theirs, a way she’d seen up close only once before.
Breaking the painful silence, she snapped open the purse again and pulls a little cigarette and lighter from some secret compartment, and lit it herself with a knowing, blase click. As she inhaled, she considered that his exhaustion and despair left him vulnerable in a way she was not entirely prepared for.

Excalibur

It was too early in the morning for many cars to pass her as she stumbled forward on the small 2-lane road that smelled as though it were Northern. Her nose had not always been better for dodging blows than differentiating the delicate blooms, tasting the terroir between wines, but for now, all she knew was this idea of North of before. Of colder than Then. Of the phone call she had to make now that she was utterly and completely exhausted of all other resources.