As we drove over the narrow iron bridge, the afternoon sun was hanging high in a cloudless blue sky, throwing silver streaks across the river below.
In the driver’s seat, Hank looked happy, with his arm stretched on the window’s edge and the wind blowing through his hair. I listened to the sound of the tires rolling over Hawk’s bridge against the music playing on the radio, and for a moment, the beauty of the world appeared vividly clear to me.
Sitting here in Hank’s passenger seat, the possibilities seemed endless, as though my life had been busted wide open and I was finally free to imagine a future where I wasn’t alone.
And yet, he was leaving on Tuesday.
I rested my head back on the seat, glancing down at the brilliant water under the last stretch of the short bridge we were leavin
