By Kim Mannix
“I give you my word,” he says.
What a leap of faith we take — to trust words. I made the leap with Jake five years ago, hoping we both meant “I do.” I believed my Mom, when she swore I wouldn’t always feel as hollow as I did the day our baby died.
Then there’s this man, with his rotting teeth and red rimmed eyes. Even through my blouse I can feel the cold blade against my belly.
“Give me your purse and I give you my word, I won’t hurt you.”
I have no choice but to leap.