
LEGS ARE KICKED up on the chair across from her, white sundress fluttering in the breeze of the outdoor cafe seating. there’s a bible in her hand, and she flips through it idly - words don’t offer her the kind of comfort they once did. not since god chewed her up and spit her out, punished one of his most loyal followers by pushing them straight into the arms of hell. the holy book was stolen from a motel somewhere along the way - tucked it into the one duffel bag that holds everything she owns. they shall take up serpents, and if they drink any deadly thing it shall not hurt them. the line rubs her the wrong way - sense of unease grows and she shuts the bible, hides it in a worn-out purse and instead levels her gaze on the man sitting across from her. company would be nice, she thinks. preacher’s daughter is forever on edge, doesn’t TRUST so easily anymore but hell if she still wouldn’t like to have a conversation once in a while. ‘ hey - you look kinda familiar, ’ kate lies easily, with a small tilt of of her head. ‘ where do i know ya from ? ’ / @gadathibo