I’ve put the book down. It’s been finished for nearly a month. It’s a WordPress author and I’ve waited. If nothing came back then there’s nothing. One scene is written so well it comes back often.
A boy was pressed against the trees. The trees held no shelter. It was late and the road was there. The boy was making his way home. I felt as though the trees and the night were perfectly lined up for this one moment. I read and turned the pages to gain what’s further.
Two cars came. The boy knew they were traveling too fast and he pushed himself into the trees, along the curve, best he could. He listened as twigs snapped; it’s safer here.
The cars came closer. The twigs wouldn’t let him in.