For the first time ever, even the stars aren’t enough to calm me.
They only make me miss my mum.
I sketch them in clusters on an empty page of my notebook.
Smaller and smaller until they disappear into the margin.
Hot tears prick my eyes.
They threaten to spill but I wipe them away.
The ground is so hard it makes my butt numb.
I sit on a wooden bench. It’s covered in bird shit.
And within an hour, the cold begins to bite.
Longreach is so different than I’d imagined.
Not the magical wonderland I envisaged as a kid.
Not for me, anyway.
Somewhere in this town, lives the kind man who drove me here.
I picture him sitting inside a warm house.
Soft couch, hot dinner.
Maybe a dog at his feet.
I should have begged to stay with him.
Nearby, the glow of the restaurant windows is the closest thing to comfort.
It helps me feel less alone.
Beth is still here, for another hour at least.
I watch as she moves from table to table, plate after plate carried on her tray.
She must be a little older than my Mum.
She feels like a Mum.
Perhaps she is one, to someone very lucky.
I shiver in the dark, goosebumps prickling along my arms.
But knowing that she’s nearby helps lull me into a trance.
Soon my eyelids grow heavy.
I rest my head against my lumpy backpack.
It’s impossible to drift off for long, though.
I can’t let my guard down.
