#weberin

The wind kicked up dirt along the main road, carrying the scent of dry sage and old wood. The sun was melting into the hills, staining the clouds a bruised orange and casting long, skeletal shadows across the road. Dust danced low to the ground in loose spirals. Miriam stood outside the general store, coat collar up, hat tilted low to keep the dying sun out of her eyes. Her boots were scuffed from the miles, her satchel heavy with old notes and half-truths from folks too scared to talk straight.

She was just about to step off the porch when a voice came from behind her — soft, uncertain: ❝ Could you stay a bit longer? ❞ She looked out at the sun for a beat longer before glancing back over her shoulder. There was a woman standing nearby, her expression unreadable in the fading light. Miriam didn’t try to guess her meaning. Didn’t project anything onto her. She’d learned long ago not to assume a damn thing about strangers — especially ones asking her to stay.

She shifted her weight, thumb hooking into her belt. ❛ Depends, ❜ Miriam said, tone calm but edged with curiosity. ❛ Most folks here want me gone before I even say hello. ❜ Her tone wasn’t bitter. If anything, it was dry, matter-of-fact. A statement born of habit more than anger. She didn’t press for an answer. Just gave the silence room to breathe. If the woman wanted to explain herself, she could. Miriam wasn’t in th habit of dragging words out of people — not unless they needed dragging.

She stepped aside slightly, enough to show she wasn’t walking away yet. ❛ You need something? ❜ The wind rolled through again, pushing loose strands of hair across Miriam’s face. She didn’t brush them away. Her eyes stayed on the stranger, waiting — not demanding — to see what came next.