TAXI

I looked wildly around as I grasped the torn shoulder of my blue ski jacket. He was gone and he’d taken the gift. The handmade quilt I had worked so hard on. He had taken it. I could feel the tears welling up and I knew I had to squash those emotions. I had to think, but the images kept flying around, bashing into my brain, squeezing through the cracks in my skull, driving themselves in like rivets into my mind.