Lines Between Us Novels & Stories

I spent twenty hours on a train in coach, traveling more than 1,800 miles to see Harry Berger. I texted him to vent. "I'm so tired. My back feels like it’s about to break." It took him more than ten minutes to reply. "So? Do you want me to praise you for it, or feel sorry for you? "I didn’t make you come. You bought the ticket yourself, too. Don’t act like everyone owes you something." I stared at those words. The "I miss you" sticker I had intended to send remained unsent. Then he sent me an airport location. "Gemma heard you were coming and bought a ticket at the last minute. She wants to meet up with us. She has a lot of luggage, so I’m going to pick her up first since I’ll be pass

It was though, in Lisa's opinion. A red line, eight or nine inches long, perfectly straight with evenly spaced staples about every half inch, started just above her knee, not on the front of her thigh, not on the side but halfway between. About the mid point of that line, another line, not even close to being straight, branched off and zigzagged three or four inches toward the front of her thigh and had been stitched closed. "You still have great legs, Leese." "I don't care," Lisa whimpered and tried hard to choke down the tears filling her eyes.