The air is misty and cold. I’m not quite sure what I was expecting, strolling around the city this early in the morning. I still see mildew on the grass in the park near my house, and unsure clouds continue shifting awkwardly in the sky.

     The park is empty, save for an irritated man in a business suit barking at co-worker on the phone, and a blond woman bouncing a curly-haired toddler on her hip with bags beneath her eyes. The toddler’s curls are a rich, chocolaty color. His arms cling to his mother’s neck, but he’s long asleep. Every once in a while, the woman glances at me in paranoia, and I try to focus on the business man instead. I can only see the back of his suit, though, so I pretend to busy myself with my burlap sack instead. I fiddle around with the crackers inside for a minute before I feel a tap on my shoulder.

     “You catching the bus, girl?”

     I shake my head quickly. Dang it, Morgan. You are catching the bus. Great job.

     “Okay,” the guy says, a tan, slim boy my age with hazel eyes and a mess of light brown hair resting atop his head. He reaches for the handle on the bus in front of him that I somehow managed not to hear driving up.

     “Wait!” I call. “Actually, I am taking the bus. Sorry.” I point in an awkward gesture at my watch, hoping he will see it as some time mix-up. He simply laughs.

     "What are you doing way out here this early in the morning?" he asks as we climb up onto the leather-smelling old thing.  I know he's only trying to be friendly, but the words scare me. I try to slump into the first seat unnoticed, but he slides into the seat right next to mine.

     "I... I'm catching the bus, and then..."

     He watches me with curious eyes as I stumble for words. I don't know what's happening to me. I've been thinking of things to say all morning in case this kind of situation arises, but now I find myself at a blank.

     "And then...?" He offers me a smile.

     "I'm visiting my grandma," I blurt quickly. Not exactly the most original story, but believable enough.

     The boy's wild eyebrows furrow as he studies me closely. I can see the golden-green flecks in his eyes more clearly now, and a sleepy, lost part of me becomes suddenly fascinated with this random boy's eyes.

     "That's a nice try," he says, and I feel my stomach drop. "It's okay. I'm running away, too."

     A wave of relief ripples through me and instead of the fear that had settled in my gut and has still been there since last night when I first made my plan, an unfamiliarly powerful pang of sadness fills me instead, and I find myself throwing my arms onto this boy, this stranger I have only known for five minutes, who is the first person in months I feel comfortable crying into. We sit there, his arms wrapped over my shaking shoulders as I sob, the tears flowing faster than my heartbeat, the cries I have been holding in the back of my throat for years finally rising to the surface, free. I have escaped, and have not even run that far away. This is all that I had really wanted. To escape not my house, not my family, not my life, but myself. To cry on someone else's shoulder for the first time in forever. To finally be free of what has been holding me back.

     "Hey," the boy says gently. "Hey, are you okay?"

     "No," I cry. "I'm not. I'm not okay."

     He looks up at me with those mesmerizing hazel eyes, golden green flecks brighter than they had been before. No, there's something else in them... not just gold and green and hazel. No, there's something more. Kindness.

     "I need to get off," I say suddenly, perching up. The urgency jerks me up onto my legs. "I need to go home."

     "I'll stay with you until we get back to your stop," promises the boy. I stare at him. He's a fool, this boy, but the words that come from my mouth are, "Thank you."

     We wait in silence for hours, driving around the town until, finally, we are back at the place we started. I step out cautiously forward.

  The air is misty and cold. I’m not quite sure what I was expecting, strolling around the city this early in the morning, but I know what I'm doing now... I'm going home.