This week’s photo prompt is provided by Maria with Doodles and Scribbles. Thank you Maria!
Sami couldn’t sleep. Sweat stood like beads on her cheeks, amid the soft hairs on her arms. Eventually, she untangled her body from the damp sheets, padded across the linoleum to the door without bothering to dress.
Outside it was no cooler, but she felt better being up, not trying to fool herself that sleep would come.
Mig always told her not to walk at night, that the twisting lanes were too full of gang members looking to score. Maybe he was right, but she’d grown up there, went to the tiny school with the boys from the gangs. Theirs were the first male lips she’d tasted.
When they passed by in their flat bed trucks, machine guns slung over their scrawny, tattooed chests, they’d whistle, blow kisses to their talisman – their Little Samira.
She thought of all the boys she’d kissed who were dead now. And wondered who would be next.