Chapter Eight
She half-slept, weary and uncomfortable, propped against a wall. There were noises in the distance. Something would happen but she couldn’t control when. She had half a memory from a few years back, of sleeping in a small-town bus station when the bus had been delayed. She’d had no money with her, traded a blowjob for a burger and a beer in the otherwise empty bus station restaurant. It had helped that she’d half-fancied the guy running the place. He’d insisted, for no good reason she could remember, on doing it in the service alley. Maybe it was the only place not covered by CCTV. Or it was the clearest camera angle, and he could copy the CCTV video as a souvenir.
She’d been tired and sloppy, but it had been an excellent burger with plenty of pickles.
The cell door clange
