We pulled into Belle Isle, a small island past the banks of the James River fronting Hollywood Cemetery where Confederate generals, soldiers, and Presidents were all buried in cedar fresh lanes. Maymont Park, a botanical zoo and garden, showered orange gold leaves of October in the distance as Michael parked.
After the hot dog incidence, we had driven in silence.
I accidentally caught his eyes in the backseat mirror, and he blushed furiously. As soon as we parked, I ran out of the car, into the woods. I had to get away!
"Wrong way Shannon," Divya called. "Kokabiel's astronomical workshop is set up in the ruins of the mill, deep in its heart."
I emerged, slumped over, from a patch of briars. Rosanna chuckled.
