A Late Meeting

Amanda Bussman
4 min readMar 27, 2023
Photo by Ahmed Zayan on Unsplash

November 12th


The town’s chaos was one that she wanted to escape from. Reminders sat everywhere, candles, photographs… as Jinx walked down the side street she did her best to avoid the main roads, to tuck herself as far away as possible from the reminders and ghosts that now walked the streets. The fill of long and drawn faces, the people who wanted nothing more than for someone to listen to what they’d been through.

The last thing Jinx wanted to do was listen.

She hadn’t slept in days. She hadn’t eaten. She’d sat tucked in the corner of the apartment above the bar with the lights off, the music in her ears unable to cover the talking voices, the memory of the look on Wes’s face.

Motherfucker. She was doing it again.

Jinx’s chest constricted, breathing once again seeming as if every breath she took was coming in and out through a straw. Reaching up with both hands she covered her mouth and nose, trying to ground herself. Just the same way she always had, the way she’d calmed herself down after Jack had left. When she’d realized that she was completely alone with their son of a bitch father.

It wasn’t helping.

Instead of images passed in front of her. The last look in Wes’s eyes. He’d smiled at her. That stupid cheeky smile that she…



Amanda Bussman

If you're looking for a writing coach and someone who is working through generational trauma, you've come to the right place. OH! I hope you like Taylor Swift!