The cab smelled faintly of pine air freshener, sharp and artificial, and the driver had the radio tuned low to a late‑night jazz station. The soft saxophone notes felt too peaceful for how Andrea’s mind was running. She leaned her temple against the cool window, watching the highway stretch toward O’Hare in long ribbons of light, trying to think about nothing-which was the closest she’d come to rest all day.
Her phone buzzed.
Mindy: Landing in 10 minutes. I have stories. So many stories, get excited.
Andrea smiled for the first time since morning, the expression tugging at her face like it had forgotten how.
Mindy came through the arrivals door pulling a bright orange suitcase, sunglasses pushed up into her hair even though it was eight at night, looking like someone who had spent two
