Ed Nyms hated hearing his name called out in public, but he could not risk the trucker following him back to his rig.
The phone was broken but some angel left a marker that worked. My trembled scrawl:
“The phone’s broken,” Ed growled, rounding the corner of the building.
I transferred the marker from my sleeve to my sneaker getting into the truck. Being on the road, missing school had made me dumb. Next time I would write HELP, his name and Mom’s phone number. I would leave clues and equations in ladies rooms all across the country.
Copyright – Danny Bowman
This story was written for Friday Fictioneers, a writer’s group devoted to crafting 100 word stories from a photo prompt. Thanks to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for facilitating the group and Danny Bowman for this week’s intriguing picture. You can read more stories inspired by this photo prompt here.