Going home
*Lena* The van's engine hums steadily beneath us as we cruise along the winding roads of Georgia. Everything feels vibrant, alive… the trees thick with emerald foliage, the air warm with the scent of honeysuckle and the sweet promise of summer. The sky is a brilliant blue, unmarred by a single cloud, and though we’re not chasing storms today, the energy in the cab is electric. Zac’s hands grip the steering wheel, his fingers tapping lightly to the rhythm of the music playing softly in the background. I steal a glance at him, his profile sharp and focused, and I can’t help but admire the way he navigates the road, confident and calm. I’m still riding high from our last chase, the thrill of the storm and what we did within it lingering in my veins like a sweet aftertaste. “Hey, Zac,” So
- Writer
