Iris looked at the road opening before her and gave a savage grin before letting her soul ride with the wind. The road opened to her, devoid of traffic. The wind whistled past Iris. She breathed in deeply and let herself go.
Even as the open road called her, her mind rebelled against her. Harald Ericson’s face floated in front of her. Iris let herself remember a million tiny moments. She remembered her grandfather teaching her to swim, his big bushy beard brushing the top of her head. She gunned the bike, and the bike purred even more, and the road sped past her. Iris went nowhere; she had no destination except where the road took her. Even as the road took her away from everything that was haunting her. The world stopped as she stopped. Sea salt stung the back of her throat as she stared out over the ocean. The seagulls whirled in the sky above Iris.
