Jaye Marie and Anita Dawes

This is the twenty-third part of a fiction serial, in 730 words.

The old mobile homes had been stripped out inside, leaving room for two mattresses in the front section, and two more at the back, behind a sliding door. The small kitchen area had just enough utensils for four people, and the tiny toilet cubicle also had an overhead shower that ran away through a drain in the floor. Basic wasn’t enough to descibe the dismal interior, with dirty curtains that didn’t fully close, and one small electric fan heater in each of the sleeping areas. No table to eat at, and no television or radio. I wondered how long I could stand this place being my home. There were some things piled in the far corner, and the crumpled bedding suggested one person was already living there.

My van was parked out of sight of the complex, and…