Sarcasm is sparkle in black.
Also I don’t actually have a cat, but I’d like to keep my options open.
Oh! Warning: our nosy neighbor’s cat Midnight could come prowling, but he’s harmless.
Arden laughed. A real laugh, sharp and sudden.
Her reply came easy.
I think this might work. Let’s set up a video tour.
Saturday. Prepare yourself. There’s a disco ball involved.
Arden closed her laptop and leaned back, a small smile lingering.
Maybe this was the start of something new.
Something that washers.
?
The night before she left, Dot slid a bottle across the counter.
Top shelf. No label. No comment.
“For the road,” he muttered.
She took it, nodding.
Jim pressed cash into her hand.
Tommy offered a solemn, “New York won’t know what hit it.”
Her last box fit snug in the backseat. Her old sedan hummed low, thick with ghosts of every mile she’d survived.
As she pulled away, the glow of Dot’s neon sign flickered once--a farewell it didn’t quite want to give.
But she didn’t look back.
She couldn’t.
It wasn’t a goodbye to a place. It was a goodbye to the version of herself who kept making room for people who never deserved her.
The road ahead was wide. Jagged. Unforgiving.
But it was hers.
And this time, she wasn’t chasing safety.
She was choosing herself.
CHAPTER 4
Concrete Dreams
The road stretched ahead, winding through the last miles through Appalachia. Trees lined both sides, their branches thinning as autumn edged closer to winter. Maple leaves tumbled across the pavement, catching in the slipstream before vanishing behind her.
In the rearview mirror, the mountains shrank. No longer the unmoving sentinels they once were.
