The last thing she wanted to do was touch his hand. Yet, knowing what would happen if she didn\’t, she reached out. A smile twisted the corners of her lips and she hoped her lipstick would not crack. It had been a long night and he was only her third customer. \’So, handsome,\’ she said as lightly as she could manage, \’what can I do for you tonight?\’He opened his hand to reveal a weathered palm, but what interested her most were the words spelled out by what looked like lettering tiles. She remembered them from when she had studied mechanical drawing and grew misty for the neat past she had left behind so long ago:
\’Thank you.\’ She said the words and turned toward the dawn as he closed his hand. There would be no more night walking for her. The game was over.
The darkness of night masks so many things. Love, labor, loss … it is easy to judge why someone would sell themselves, especially when we have no understanding of the story before and behind the act. I offer 148 words for this week\’s VisDare in honor of those who choose freely and those who have been forced into such a decision. Click the photo to visit and share your thoughts.