Call Me Dmitry

I sit back and relax as Mr. Hardin makes his way to my house. He takes the road that runs through the downtown area instead of Lake Road. I can’t help but wonder if that was on purpose. Perhaps he wanted to steer clear of the place where I almost died.

Death by a motorcycle crash.

I caught a glimpse of the coffee shop I applied to yesterday and began checking my phone for missed calls. It was dead.

“Do you need to charge your phone?” This was the first thing he asked me since I jumped in the car.

“Yes. Do you have an iPhone charger?”

“No. I have an android.”

I smiled a little. “Thanks anyway.”

The car veered toward the parking lot where the coffee shop sat. “I hope you don’t mind. I’m starving.” He said.

“No. Go right ahead.”

He jumped out of the car. “I’ll be right back.” Before he could close the door, he popped his head back in. “Do you want anything?”

I had no money. Rick never gave me an allowance. In fact, the only thing my tiny wallet carried was the city-sponsored bus card I a