S.O.Bailey

H omeless Donna sat on a cold, concrete curb.  Her battered cardboard sign with letters long faded away laid beside her.  She hadn’t found a marker in the garbage, or within the litter accumulated on the roadside with enough ink left inside to refresh the sign’s asking letters.  It was a warm night, but it was still cold.  The nights were always cold for Homeless Donna, colder than the days.  A car drove by, and then another with a passenger window rolled down and a small voice from within that happily said, “Hi Donna!” Everyone in town knew Homeless Donna.  Lake City is one of those cities that isn’t big but it isn’t small either.  There is a Walmart, but no Whole Foods; there is an Applebees, but no Cheesecake Factory; there are many businesses and office buildings, but no skyscrapers.  It is between Fort Worth and a much smaller town divided by a lake named Esel.   Brake lights lit the night air red behind a truck, and at first Homeless Donna thought the driver was stopping