Jess Bartell pulled forward until his wheels hugged the curb. He cracked the window an inch. Can’t fog up the windows. He turned off the motor, and waited...
Twenty-two minutes ticked by before Grace Simms emerged from the grey
door. Her long stem legs descended the wooden staircase, slow, deliberate. No work today? Not Grace’s usual business attire,
baggy jeans and fleece. Did she feel challenged to aid her
clients wage war against worry and despair today? Was she too distraught to coddle
the hurt with soothing words? Make the meek feel strong and mighty? Poor Grace. A piece had been ripped from
her heart, leaving her vulnerable. Just the way he liked her.
