She killed the engine. The quiet of the rural Virginia night rushed in—crickets, the distant creak of a wind-beaten oak, and the soft, steady breathing of the woman asleep in the passenger seat.
Her head was tilted against the window, a thin drool trail connecting her lower lip to the collar of her oversized flannel. They had driven eight hours straight from a music festival in Tennessee, fleeing bad weather and a bad conversation with an ex who’d shown up uninvited. Mina had insisted on driving the whole way. “You rest,” she’d said. “I’ve got you.” Loving ladies 2024 01 16 -- 00-33-1226-04 Min
“I’m fine.” Mina wasn’t fine. Her lower back was a knot of tension, her eyes were gritty, and her right hand had gone numb from gripping the wheel. But looking at Elara, she felt something closer to invincible than tired. She killed the engine