Ruthless Creatures by J.T. Geissinger

A man stands in the space between them.
When I step out of the cab, he steps out from the doorway
and begins the walk down the long gravel drive.
He’s tall, lean, and deeply tanned. His dark hair is kissed
bronze at the tips by the sun. Wearing an untucked white dress
shirt rolled up his forearms, a pair of khaki shorts, and flipflops,
he moves closer.
As he does, he watches me with sharp hazel eyes I’d know
anywhere on earth.
And of all the things I thought I might do or say at this
moment, of all the curses I wanted to scream and the insults I
wanted to hurl, the only thing I find myself actually doing is
sinking to my knees and fighting for air.
When my knees touch the gravel, David breaks into a run.