Hands Off, Baby

When he carries me out of that smoky apartment, I don’t feel fear anymore—the kind that had left me frozen in place. I don’t feel danger. What danger could there be when he’s near?

When he holds me?

So harsh. So tender.

He called me “little one.” A ridiculous word—nothing like me—yet it’s stroking me right now.

I’ve never been anyone’s little one before.

Maybe it’s simply because he was waiting for me.