Volume 1, No. 1

Ten Dollar Conscience / Williams ... 4

She was so wrapped up in thought she did not even notice the teenage girl standing, hip slanting in a self-effacing slouch, on the border of the grass, right in front of her. Her first clear impression was of the cardboard sign around her neck saying, "Please help me get home to Toronto."
Lynn had daughters. The eldest was half as old as this girl, who looked about 18. She was nice looking: eyes tense, mouth sad. Discouraged. A stray only just turned out on the streets. She wore inexpensive, clean clothing. No jacket, just a plain green T-shirt. No luggage except for the modest navy backpack nestled at the small of her back, it's straps looking more comfortable on her shoulders than Lynn's ridiculous laptop which she had not used anyway.
'Oh no,' Lynn thought, even as she stopped and asked, "What happened."