The following morning Eva’s eyes opened slowly and focused on the glowing white hands of the clock on her nightstand: 5:18 a.m. The man Dwayne had sent into her room the night before was long gone, but the stale smell of him was everywhere: beer, marijuana, cheap cologne, dried semen.
She touched her face and the stinging pain was immediate. Instantly, she pulled her hand off the swelling. Lying naked under her bed covers, she stared upward at the cracks in the ceiling. They reminded her of an intricate, spider-webbed network of rivers and streams one might see on a map in a geography book. The explorer’s choice of which river to travel, she thought was crucial to the speed, success, even the survival of the entire journey.
How do you choose? How do you know?