Debbie put her hand into the hole, sliding her hand down as far as her arm could reach. She wiggled her fingers hoping to touch something, but all she felt was air. She shifted the weight of her body to try and reach an inch or two more down the hole. Her fingers still touched nothing but air.
She didn't understand how changed worked. When she looked at today compared to yesterday, there was nothing that she could see that was different. Yet, when she looked at today compared to last year, she couldn't see how anything was ever the same.
The lone lamp post of the one-street town flickered, not quite dead but definitely on its way out. Suitcase by her side, she paid no heed to the light, the street or the town. A car was coming down the street and with her arm outstretched and thumb in the air, she had a plan.
There was something beautiful in his hate. It wasn't the hate itself as it was a disgusting display of racism and intolerance. It was what propelled the hate and the fact that although he had this hate, he didn't understand where it came from. It was at that moment that she realized that there was hope in changing him.
There was no time. He ran out of the door without half the stuff he needed for work, but it didn't matter. He was late and if he didn't make this meeting on time, someone's life may be in danger.