Still not a hundred words or less, but WHO CARES.
I could see her little profile in back seat of the Lincoln. I waved to get her attention. She waved cheerfully back.
I pulled my nose up at her. She smashed her face up against the glass.
I exhaled on the cracked apartment window, creating a patch of fog. In it I traced a heart. I pointed at me, pointed at it, pointed at her. I love you.
She exhaled on her glass. Started scrawling with her too-thin fingers, but it was backwards, misspelt. Impossible for me to read.
The light turned green and she moved forward. Toward a different, better life. Toward a childhood she deserved.
Now that she was gone, I allowed myself to cry. I wonder if she did the same.