Springer Fiction: Trinity’s Trouble


“Springer,” Trinity said, biting back a sob.

He looked up from shelving tissues. “Trinity. Haven’t seen you in awhile.”

“I’m a shit, I know,” she said, staring up at the ceiling. She blinked fast a bunch of times and took some deep breaths that made her chest move in big motions.

It was all Springer could to to keep from staring at her tits. Trinity had great tits. Most girls did, come to think of it.

“I need help, Springer. I’m in trouble.”

He paused, looking at her face. Her green eyes were dark. They almost matched the purple under them, stretching from one end of her eyelashes to the other. She chewed her upper lip, something he’d never seen her do before. Not that he’d spent that much time with her. Not nearly as much as he’d wanted to.

“Trouble?” he repeated, feeling stupid.

“Yeah,” she said. “Trouble.” Her eyes slid down until it was impossible for him to miss her meaning. Her belly.

“We’re not talking about something like your appendix, are we?” he asked weakly. He put a hand on the stock cart to steady himself. Stupid thing was on wheels and almost pulled him off his feet as it slipped away, like it was trying to escape this conversation.

It was a good distraction. Regaining his balance helped Springer think again.

“No,” she was saying. “It’s what you think.”

“Well, it’s not mine!”

She smiled. A little bit. Maybe it was funny to her, but Springer couldn’t figure out why else she’d picked him to come to.

“Would you… could you…” She stared up at the ceiling. Springer noticed a faint ring of dirt around her neck.

“How long since you been home?” he asked her.

She looked at him, her eyes flashing like he’d told someone else her secret.

“This is bad,” he said.

She nodded slowly, chewing her upper lip again.

“You can’t go to anyone else?”

She shook her head, teeth still pulling at her lip.

“The dad?”

She shuddered. At least she let go of her lip.

Springer held his arms open and let her fall into his hugs. For a second there, it felt the way he’d been hoping it would: like he was in the arms of an angel. But then he reminded himself that he was the one doing the holding, and she had a huge mess that it was up to him to fix.

Of course, he didn’t have the first idea how.

The Sunday Scribblings prompt this week is Adventure, and Springer’s sure about to embark on one. Carry on Tuesday‘s found its way in here, too. And that’s all. For now.


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