Les wondered if they were even able to talk about what was going on. They barely knew each other. She’d never asked about his problems, despite how obvious they’d been. It was his house, and he could have demanded she tell him everything or be kicked out, but the thought of doing so was so fleeting it barely registered. He glanced at the strange truck across the street with the two men in it, and decided to ignore it, burying is head back in his book.
Later in the afternoon, there was still no sign of her. He went down the hallway to her door, but had no idea how long she’d been in there. It could be she was just quiet, or had been out while he was busy. What if she was hiding? Or dead?–don’t be ridiculous, he told himself. He raised his hand, but couldn’t bring himself to knock.
Note: A little piece reflecting part of Mally’s story.