jaylar
Molly left the flat early in the morning, her knapsack on her back. Her drunken mother was sleeping it off in the living room and her autistic sister was in her room watching cartoons.
Molly got to the bus station, paid for her ticket and boarded, moving to the back. She saw no one and nothing.
Guilt consumed her and she shoved it down as if it were the clothes she had crammed into the knapsack.
She took her seat and was oblivious to everything around her. And fell asleep.
The bus made stops, but Molly slept, the first real sleep she had for months, maybe years. A sleep in which no one and nothing demanded her attention.
