January 24, 2019
Volume 49 - No. 04
By R. L. “Pete” Peterson
The young girl had nursed her Mountain Dew at Jack In the Box on Rosecrans Boulevard for over two hours, when the Nice Lady sat down at the table next to her, smiled and said, “What a pretty girl. What are you, sixteen, seventeen?”
“Seventeen,” The Girl answered. It was the first time since her Grandmother died that anyone had mentioned her looks in a positive way. Now The Paper - 760.747.7119
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that she was on her own, what difference would it make if she fudged a little on her age?
Sweetheart,” the Lady asked.
“Charlotte.”
“Good,” the Nice Lady said. “You can crash with me. My daughters are out of town for a few days. Grab a hot shower. Snuggle into a warm bed.” To Charlotte, this sounded more than wonderful, if a little weird. But, the Lady was well-dressed, friendly and seemed to understand her needs. How did she know that Charlotte hadn’t
“What’s your name, Dear?”
“What a lovely name.” She squeezed Charlotte’s hand. “Good to meet you. I’m Sandra.” Her smile so genuine, her demeanor so pleasant Charlotte felt at ease. “Got
a
place
to
stay,
Caught off guard by such a blunt question, The Girl stammered. “No. . . not really.”
The Opioid Crisis - See Page 2
slept in over 48 hours except for a short nap on the Greyhound that brought her to San Diego? “Hungry?”
Charlotte nodded. The truth was, she was famished. The Nice Lady ordered her a Jumbo Jack with double fries and a coffee for herself. While they waited for their order, a man in a white shirt, suit coat and dress trousers joined them.