France. Fucking France. Christine had landed in this country 5 weeks ago. She had settled down in her own way. Landed a quaint apartment, gotten a nice waitressing job. Ditched her family, and dumped the boy. Some would say harsh stuff but for now, years of putting up with shit dictated a small but growing need for self preservation. It was coming in droves.
The one thing that made it all work was she had this link. This life line. A small ring of women that refused to let the woman known as Christine to her online buds, but Chris to her greatest and best friends, drift away to deal with her problems alone.
That's where I come in. My name's Logan. Some people when they see me comin', they don't see the next sunrise, colors that flow across the sky like watercolor diamonds. I'm sent to make sure she does. No more not so black and white muddy shit.
So I find her at this little place waiting on tables and I write on the back of my ticket. She smiles that smile that makes my heart double its beats.
And here we are crusing down the coastal road. Gotta a woman straddling my bike behind me and a big fucking smile on my face.
Chris looked out at the sea and closed her eyes to let the wind whip her hair into stringy array. Didn't have to worry about how things would turn out any more…and that made her smile and grip the body in front of her even more.
She took the little meal ticket from out of her front shirt pocket to read.
'I'd like to fuck you steadily for a week or so, then you can reassess your priorities. How does that sound?'
Sounded fucking fine to her. Chris let the wind snatch the piece of paper from out of her hand and she turned her head to watch it float down the cliffs to the water below.
The end.