Want to walk home today? Lucy slipped the paper into her English textbook. She stumbled through a thorny copse, her slippers sliding on patches of sand that gave way to rock. She thought of Sebastian who often returned from the charnel house that the outside world had become. He was a good foster dad that had never so much as leered at her, not even once. She stole the opportunity to peer at his departing figure from the closed curtains of the front room window, his shoulders slumped forward, his posture and his ego slightly deflated. Manning,” she began. It was Jack, wasn’t it?’ ‘Aye, s-sir.
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