Her hair was pulled back in a casual style, just a hint of makeup to emphasise her natural beauty and over-sized sunglasses pushed up into her hair. She knew that although few could carry this look off as effortlessly that she appeared as a typical mother about town, unlike most of the other identikit ladies Lydnsay embraced her inner public slut and was endeavouring to raise it to an art form.The single glass of red wine, a red zinfandel, sat on the table before her. Occasionally she would raise it to her lips and savour the deep richness of its flavour. Like the wine Lyndsay had allowed herself to develop into who she was rather than become available too early, had matured from through a rose to a full red as it were.There was a sound behind her and she felt someone moving closer. But it was now noon and the pub tables were starting to fill for the lunchtime rush. A bottle of Red Zinfandel appeared on the table beside her glass, a tall glass of clear liquid was placed on the table. I lifted my head just in time for him to find the stash of money I kept in a couch cushion. ‘You’ve been keeping money from me,’ he turned to look at me. I stood up slowly still against the wall near the door. Just as he took his first step toward me I bolted out the door ignoring any and all pain. I heard a yell and a crash but kept running forward. When I finally ran out of adrenaline, or the pain started to override it’s affects, I stopped to find myself at the cross-roads. I leaned against the rusted wire fence and started crying. I stayed like that until I felt something cold against my arm. Looking up I saw the Rottweiler from down the street. I sat there until the sun had set, just petting him. I was kinda surprised he actually sat there that long. Once the only light available was from a few street lights, I decided to see if my father was still at home. After having walked a block I realized I was being followed. I looked back to see the dog. ‘If you want to come with me.
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