“Charles Smith The drip-drop sprinkles are soothing. Right now, Marcus Jackson needs all the comfort that he can get. He can feel his right hand trembling slightly as he shifts into third gear, switching to the fast lane on I-75 headed north. He’s gotta get there, gotta get there quickly before his mind changes. A tingle works its way up his lower back, toward the top of his spinal column as he reminisces on what she had just said sixty minutes ago. “Will you come, please? I need to see you,” sh...e had said. Those sweet words would forever caress his heart, yet haunt his soul for the rest of his natural life. He could never forget the immediate feeling of triumph and pleasure at hearing her soft voice yearn for his company. “Will you come, please? I need to see you,” she had said. The sporadic raindrops across the windshield begin to pick up pace—sprinkles turning into light rain, calming rain, mellowing rain. Marcus’s heart begins to quicken as he passes by Exit 50, Grand River, continuing northbound toward her.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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