Her words hang in the air and, for a moment, we are all like statues.
Her words hang in the air and, for a moment, we are all like statues.
I pulled in the driveway of the rundown blue shack on the side of Highway 290, wondering if I was making the wrong decision jumping into the car of a total stranger — let alone into the car of a convicted felon. I had just moved to Austin, and it’s not like anyone would be checking in on me.
“I feel hope for this young woman. I think she’s onto something good. Something better. Something different than what she’s been shown and taught in the past. I can’t guarantee that anything will blossom from it, but I am certain that a seed has been planted.”