I recall that morning. Everything was misty grey: the gravel road that kicked dust from the tires, the clouds above us, her sweatshirt adorned with the words, ‘Carmel- by-the-sea.’
We were so far north of Carmel.
Desperate for a break, hoping to convince myself, fears are paper tigers come to play, I’d left the city behind.
She stood there, familiar yet out of place.