“Hopefully.”
She laughed and wished him a happy birthday.
I drove away feeling ridiculously pleased with myself.
The balloons kept drifting into my rearview mirror.
At one stoplight, a silver balloon slid forward and bumped the side of my face.
“You’re going to ruin this before I get there,” I muttered.
I pushed it away and kept driving.
The station wasn’t far.
I’d made the trip enough times that I barely thought about the route.
I passed the grocery store Tyler liked, the gas station where he always bought terrible coffee, and the intersection where I’d once waited nearly 20 minutes because a freight train seemed determined to ruin my afternoon.
Everything felt normal.
That detail would stick with me later.
There was nothing in the drive that warned me.
No strange call.
No message.
