In the late July morning, she carried her suitcase and stepped into the airport.
She didn't tell anyone the time her flight was taking off, arriving at the airport alone and in silence.
The morning breeze carried a hint of sweetness, like the scent of dew.
Taking a deep breath, she was enveloped in the fragrance of fresh grass and green trees.
This was a scent unique to summer, deeply etched into her mind like carvings from a knife, impossible to erase.
The past few days had been rainless, and it was exceptionally stuffy outside.
Jasmine Yale was wearing a purple and pink knee-length dress, her not-too-long hair tied up with a hairband, looking quite refreshing.
She hadn't applied any makeup, and her frail hand was pulling a heavy suitcase behind her.
When she arrived in Landon, she had nothing; now as she was leaving, she was still all alone.
She feared farewells, so she didn't tell Ann Nolan or Joe Heath about her departure.
