the escape

She should have left alone. This was her first mistake. She realized as she saw her little sister’s face plastered on the side of a milk carton, just sitting there, smiling up at her from behind the glass in a gas station just outside of des moines. “I didn’t know that they still put missing kids’ pictures like that” she said out loud, immediately wishing she hadn’t.  it was a poor cover up to her involuntary freeze that took over her limbs upon seeing the picture. There were people trying to get through and she closed the door with a soft thud, sidestepping down the aisle toward the clerk. She hoped people didn’t still look at those things, imagined a Midwestern housewife clucking her tongue at it over breakfast, feeling sorry for everyone involved, in a judgey sort of way. It probably didn’t matter. The trip had aged her, hardened her features and it was unlikely that anyone would be able to identify the sunken eyed teenager in the passenger seat as the apple cheeked 8^th grader from the dairy section. She felt bad about it mostly, but it was too late now and besides what was she supposed to do? Turn her away when she chased down the car? Leave her there to rot away like some sort of forgotten suburban relic? Behind the counter, the clerk cleared his throat and she uncrumpled some bills from her pocket. The bell on the door clacked as she hurried back to the car. Their parents would understand some day.