by Amy Daws
As I settle into the driver’s seat and glance at the suitcases in the backseat, I breathe a sigh of relief. He’s letting me go; this is what I want. To reassure myself, I reach into my purse and pull out my boarding pass, passport, and the British pounds I had transferred from American dollars. I glance at the time on my boarding pass and check the clock on my dash.
In four more hours, I’ll be on a plane to London. Well, New York first for a layover, then on to London. I take one last look at the place Brody and I have called home for three years. This place used to be full of happy, magical memories—now it stares back at me with an ominous threat of disappointment. I can’t stay here and live this life. Not like this. London can be my new lover.
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