23
Abigail marched down Marine Parade, marveling at how grandly her world had changed since the last time she’d walked this path. She was free. Finally. The wind blew her hair away from her face and she inhaled the salty tang, filling her lungs to the brim.
It felt good.
She could go anywhere, do anything. Belize was no longer banned because the person who had kicked her out no longer had the authority to tell her what to do. It was like a gift that had waited for years beneath the Christmas tree, gone unnoticed until this very moment.
Her heels clacked against the reddish tiles beneath her feet and the coconut trees waved at her like smiling men with gapped, green teeth. She felt like waving back, like hopping on the wall and skipping near the rocks, like singing an off-key tune.
Abi
