JC was strolling along the busy street, keeping his head low. He loved to walk through the city with no particular destination. It gave him a chance to feel like a normal person. As he passed by a café JC noticed a forlorn figure sitting at an outside table. It was the familiar red hair that caught his attention. “Chloe?” he ventured. She looked up. Her green eyes were red rimmed from crying. “Oh, hey JC.” “What’s wrong?” he dared to ask. “Everything,” Chloe answered. “Did you want to join me?” “You want to talk about it?” JC took the seat across from her. “Depends, do you have an hour?” Chloe asked. “As a matter of fact I do,” JC replied. “You’re not going to be happy,” Chloe predicted. “Just tell me,” JC coaxed. “Well, my name isn’t really Chloe Dorret,” she began, “it’s Chloe Byrne. I’m not twenty-two, I’m an eighteen year old runaway.” “What?” JC roared in stupefaction. A few people looked their direction and JC lowered his voice. “OK, tell me the whole story.” “I ran away from home just after last Christmas,” Chloe began. “My father had been beating me for the last three years and I one night I had had enough. “I couldn’t go to the police,” Chloe continued. “I tried it once and somehow my father fooled them into thinking I was just a spoiled rich girl having a tantrum. So, I drained my bank account and moved away.” “Does Chris know?” JC managed to ask. “No, I keep trying to tell him,” Chloe replied, “but you’re so busy, he never has time to listen.” “You have to tell him,” JC told her. “I know,” Chloe said, then asked cautiously, “Do you hate me?” JC paused for a moment. He understood, sort of. He couldn’t say that he blamed her for running. In fact, he had to admit that he would have done the same in her place. “No, I can’t say that I’m thrilled about this,” JC said, “but I don’t hate you.” “I just hope Chris will understand,” Chloe said. JC studied the hopeful woman in front of him. ????????????? I hope so too, he thought, for all our sakes.