Rise from Ashes

eel the cold, muddy water soaking through my clot

e a sore thumb in this part of town. I don't know what to do run, scream, cry? All of the above?

out of place here as his car. He's tall, impeccably dresse

ing light. He looks like he belongs in some corporate boardroom, not

assment wash over me. I'm tempted to just turn and walk away, pretend this never happened, but the

he kind of voice that expects people to stop and listen. And I do,

bly sorry about what just happened," he says, his gaze mov

It's just water," I say, though my voice betrays my ex

"Can I offer you a ride to wherever you're going?" he asks, glancing

nk you. I'm just on my way to wor

" he asks, not dete

hen I remember the time ticking away. "I'm a cleaner.

myself for the pity or judgment that usually follows

drive you there, so you're not

he rest of the way in my soaking clothes, risking getting sick

, and I know I can't afford to l

y quietly, "but

his mouth, like he's won some small

liding into the passenger seat. The interior is as luxurious as I

comfort, reminding myself that

lances over at me. "I'm Al

ortant figure that I wouldn't normally have any business with. "Amelia Clark," I

d there's something in the way he says

ful for it. I don't trust myself to make small

ch my workplace,

like y

sure how to answer. Do I like scrubbing floors

ranny and me afloat. "It's fine," I say c

ot pushing for more, w

quickly unbuckle my seatbelt, eager to get

ide," I say, reachin

and there's something different in his expression, s

n the door handle

Someone reliable, hardworking. You seem

rrectly. "Me? But I'm just a cleaner. I'

, a small smile pl

means you'll see things different

ng overwhelmed. "I don

s gently. "Take some t

ness card from his pocket and hands it

t the embossed lettering. It feels like a l

piling up, of the constant fear that we

slipping the card into my po

e says wi