Ella has been waiting for some time. “Wait a sec, hon,” her Dad had said, patting her arm and leaning over to kiss her cheek. She's perfectly safe here; this is a good neighborhood and she can still see her Dad over by the 7-11, chatting to one of his old work buddies.
No, Ella's safe from absolutely everything except boredom, and as every kid knows, that's the real killer. She props herself up on the back seat and gazes through the dirty rear window, at the Christmas lights strung from the streetlamps, and the distant glowing smudge of the town Christmas tree. She squints her eyes half-closed, and imagines…