Designated Meeting Place
She glided past the fence. It was dark. She felt almost normal, almost forgetting she had given birth a dozen hours ago. She slipped past the gate and headed towards the congregation of trees.
He was already waiting when she reached their designated meeting place. He opened the car door on the passenger side without getting out.
“Hop in,” he said flashing a smile. The same smile that had caused her problems in the first place.
She feigned a smile and got in. The car started off before she’d even closed the door.
“What was it?” he asked.
I wrote this flash fiction piece in response to Rochelle’s Friday Fictioneers photo prompt.
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