And every time her car stopped whining from effort, and she finally crested a sloping California mountain, her heart expanded a little bit more at the sight of what lie before her. A vast and unending blanket of winking lights and rolling fog, beckoning her forward like a beautifully bound book waiting to be read.
She didn't want to blink, in fear of missing even one second of this newly found world. It was calling her to it, and she was going -- now driving downhill into the fog, into the mist, into the lights and their friendly, shining faces. She was being propelled forward, so ready to explore the depths of this city, eager to find what was tucked in its nooks, hidden in its crannies.
As her car disappeared into the fog, still going downhill, the book seemed to open, just a little bit, and its first words were whispered into her mind, as if on repeat: "You are free. You are free. You are free."
1 comment:
This is really lovely. I want to keep reading about her.
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