The late afternoon sun beat down on Danielle’s back as she trudged along the cracked sidewalk, her backpack hanging off one shoulder. The soles of her shoes scraped against the pavement with every dragging step. The air smelled like hot asphalt and car exhaust, and sweat beaded at her temples. Three miles felt like thirty.


By the time she reached the gas station, her legs ached, and her throat was dry. The cool blast of air conditioning hit her face as she pushed open the glass door — it smelled of motor oil, pepperoni, and cleaning solution. She sank into the nearest plastic chair by the window, her body heavy, her chest rising and falling with slow, uneven breaths.


She used her last bit of energy to buy a greasy slice of pizza and a cold drink. The first bite burned her tongue, but she didn’t care — it was the first thing she’d eaten all day. The fizz from the soda stung her throat, but it felt good, familiar.


When she finished, she spotted a woman near the counter and asked softly, “Can I borrow your phone for a second?”


She dialed Aunt Dana’s number by heart. The phone rang twice before a groggy voice answered.


“Hello?” Aunt Dana mumbled, her tone thick with sleep.


“Aunt Dana, it’s me,” Danielle said, her voice trembling with fatigue. “Can you come pick me up from the gas station down the road from my school?”


“Why?” Dana asked flatly.


“I have ten dollars,” Danielle said quickly. “Can you just come get me?”


Something in her aunt’s voice shifted — sudden alertness, almost excitement. “Yeah, I’ll be there.”



The line went dead.


Danielle exhaled a shaky breath, bought herself another drink, and sat by the window. She watched cars come and go, the rumble of engines blending with the hum of the refrigerator cases behind her. The world outside blurred — headlights, dust, and setting sun.


When Aunt Dana’s car finally pulled up, Danielle forced herself to stand, legs weak and aching.


Finally home, she went straight to her room, closing the door behind her with a soft click. She locked it. The air was still, her sheets cool against her skin as she lay down. Her throat tightened, and silent tears rolled across her temples, soaking into the pillow.


Within minutes, exhaustion overtook her.


She cried herself to sleep.