C29 Livia

“That’s my mom,” Ryan says, nodding at the car approaching on the opposite side of the road.

It’s a quarter after eight and since I didn’t feel comfortable letting the young teen wait for her ride alone after the library closed, I’m out here with her. I squint, but in the spring twilight, I can’t make out the driver. “Are you sure that’s her?”

“I know my own car,” she says