”
“You don’t know that.”
“Yes,” I said. “I do.”
She looked at me.
I continued, “Because you’re asking the question. People who become like them don’t worry about becoming like them. They worry about not getting away with it.”
The wind moved between us.
Savannah nodded slowly.
Then she slid her arm through mine.
We kept walking.
In November, the second window continue reading …
