Resisting a Steel Tsunami
The cloud of her hair settling in a window, the cold blue of her eyes in the Mississippi heat, a guttural rumbling fading in the sleepy noise of small town life. She was a military brat and I was a transplant from parts all over in this town where almost everyone else had been born and raised. I didn’t even ask where her ticket would take her. For months after I thought of her every day, wondered if she was living the freedom she was seeking or trapped but too proud to call for help. I wondered how my life might have been different if I hadn’t stepped away from the closing bus door.
Prompt via napowrimo.net