Sage
I watched her car pull away until the taillights disappeared around the corner, the street swallowing her like it had so many times before. A smirk tugged at the corner of my mouth, small and wry. What an unusual thing to say. How would you reach me when I’m leaving in the next few days?
The words echoed in my head, half amusement, half resignation. I sighed softly, the sound lost in the evening breeze, then turned toward my own car parked a few spaces down. The engine started with a low rumble, familiar and grounding. I pulled out slowly, the café shrinking in the rearview mirror until it was just another building on another street.
Yes, I was leaving the pack. Not forever, just long enough to breathe. The last year had been relentless: rebuilding what my father had broken, steady
