He-s: Out There

But late at night, when the wind blows from the east and the honeysuckle is thick on the air, you can hear two voices in the woods. One old and rough. One young and afraid. Calling back and forth through the dark, getting closer, closer, never quite meeting.

But Sam had been forgetting things for eight years. His father’s voice. The way the lake smelled in July. The combination to the lock on his high school gym locker. He couldn’t afford to forget this. He-s Out There

You don’t have to do this, the reasonable part of his brain whispered. Turn around. Drive back to Nashville. Forget he ever existed. But late at night, when the wind blows

Sam’s chest constricted. “I didn’t run.” But late at night