She looked up to see a guy standing by the car as they approached. “Where is August?” Chelsea asked. “He retired honey” said her mother “thi... is Walter but we call him BBC”. Chelsea looked at the new driver. He is black, maybe 30yo, over 6 feet tall with broad shoulders and a broader smile. “Hello Missy” he said. They got into the car. Henry in the front and Chelsea and her mum in the back. “Tell me all about college” her mum asked. Chelsea wasn’t about to tell everything. Just about her. He understood now what she had meant when she had told him that she had no need of expensive clothes. She seemed to be able to conjure whatever garments suited her. The tattered shawl and the patched skirt that she had worn had merely been part of the illusion.Her eyes played up and down his naked body, drinking in the contours of his muscles, tracing the faded scars that peppered his tanned skin. She made no attempt to disguise her curiosity. For some reason, he felt a warmth growing in his. More

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