That’s fine. I prefer it that way.
I was halfway down the cereal aisle when I heard the running footsteps. Light. Fast. Desperate.
Before I could turn, something small slammed into me and wrapped around my arm like a lifeline.
“Please,” a tiny voice whispered, shaking so hard I felt it through my jacket. “Please pretend you’re my daddy.”
I looked down.
She couldn’t have been more than six. Hair messy, like it hadn’t been brushed properly in days. Big brown eyes, wide with a kind of fear no child should ever know. Her fingers dug into me like I was the only solid thing in a collapsing world.
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