PHOTO PROMPT © C.E. Ayr
Lee spooned more beans into his mouth, the juice running down his stubbled chin. He cuffed it away with his palm. ‘Where you going?’
‘Nowhere,’ said Tim, nibbling the last of the bread he’d stolen from home.
Lee smelt bad, his clothes stained with ragged circles where something had spilt and dried. ‘Runaway?’
His eyes were small, crusted at the corners, but the kindest Tim had seen since he’d walked out a week before. Tim nodded.
Another freight train clunked past, the stink of diesel mixing with woodsmoke.
‘Want some advice?’ said Lee. ‘Go home while you still have one.’