No good comes from Selisona. Ever. I remember the red car, they smug little man inside. He looked like a noble, and that look on his face haunts my memory. It was like a man taking joy from watching a dog being beat.
Just as I turn my head, I hear a familiar voice shout just on the other side of the isle. “Amalaya!”“Cal?” His hair is the first thing I see, such a brilliant vibrant color, like autumnal leaves. Then his massive body stumbles into view, and he nearly knocks over a rack of toiletries. As he rights himself, he turns to me with a frantic look upon his face. “What are you doing? Is everything okay?”
He regards the man questionably, like a dog would a stranger. The look of disapproval in his emerald eyes is enough. Stepping away, I take my place beside him, looking up into the face I have grown to love and cherish.
“You have to come with me,” he pants, his whole body shaking. Something horrible has happened. “We have to go. Now.”
As he tugs me away from stranger, I look back, and find a tear sliding down the aged cheek. What’s going on?