Chapter 3
“It’ll be all right.” Grace patted his arm.
Had he spoken out loud? He didn’t think so. “I wish we had some weed.”
“I’m not sure getting high on top of being drunk will solve our problems.”
“No?” Carlo wasn’t so sure.
“Remember when we lived in the group home on Mill Lane?”
Carlo shuddered. “I’d rather not.”
“How the fuck did we end up here, Carlo? We swore when we got out that we would do something with our lives.”
“We have. Neither of us is in prison, neither of us has a drug addiction, and we’re not living on welfare. It’s a huge step up.”
“Yes, but what about family, a nice house, or a job we like?”
Carlo groaned. “I have to get a new job.”
“See what I mean?” She pulled at his arm, gesturing at a bench bathed in the soft glow of a streetlamp under a huge oak tree. Carlo shivered in the chilly March night but allowed her to steer him to the bench.
As soon as they sat, the surrounding shadows moved.
“What the…” He squinted. “What’s that?”