Kat Wilde

Small Adventures

Mac could see the pain in Janie’s eyes as he sat down across from her. He slid into the bench of the small booth in their favorite grill and took her in. Bloodshot, tear-stained eyes that longed for peace. She wore a loose plaid button down and a Marilyn Manson shirt she had stolen from him to cover up the bruises on her arms and the port on her chest. Her hair hung loose around her face. She probably hadn’t even brushed it. He could see her shaking underneath her plaid button down—from pain and exhaustion. She had gotten out of bed to be here early enough to snag a good table and order before the grill closed for the night. She smiled at him; a warm, genuine smile that to most would look sincere—but not to Mac.