How longwashis goddamn driveway?
I’d walked a mile already. And my suitcase wasn’t light. I sniffed at my shoulders. Wonderful. I smelled like sweat, chemicals,andfish now. Even better than before.
And I kept putting one foot in front of the other.
I had to, lest I die in the wilderness that surrounded me, frozen and forgotten. Mr. Striker probably wouldn’t like that much. What started as a joke turned into reality. That was not the way I was going down. I planned to be a senile old woman doing whatever the hell I wanted to do before I croaked.
Crazy old lady? That was going to be me.
Maybe in a sparkling pink nightgown dancing in the streets with a martini in my hand and a smile on my face.
Bring it, you freezing cold weather and driveway for miles!
This bitch had a life to live.
I grumbled my anger at the concrete under my feet. This driveway had to have cost a fortune—not that he couldn’t afford it. But still, it was such a waste. No actual cars were in working condition anymore. Not unless someone was filthy rich—
Fuck. He probably had automobiles!
Okay, that would be awesome to journey around in.
Lost in my own thoughts of riding in a vehicle with actual wheels, I almost missed the fact that lights were on the horizon. I glanced up and blinked, squinting in the distance.
“Ah, hell!” I shouted and dropped my bag. I shook my hands at the house in the far off distance, all my fear vanishing with a bright and fiery new emotion.Anger.I bellowed in a fury, “Are you kidding me? That’s another two miles away!”
An owl hooted to my right. Then silence.
I cleared my throat. Straightened my shirt.
Grabbed my suitcase. Swallowed my anger.
I started walking again.
I would meet my future husband.
Eventually. When the driveway fucking ended.
