She pressed the gas pedal hard and the rumbling voice raised an octave.

freedom.

Leaving the city behind her she raced up the mountain side. Thin fingers reached out to gently press the automatic buttons that rolled down all of the windows in her car, causing everything inside to shift into a sudden excited motion, including the letter of resignation on the dash. The crosswind picked it up and waltzed it around the front seat before flinging it out into the country side. Reaching up, she released her hair from its office-secretary style prison and tugged at the collar of her black funeral garb.

The capricious wind took up dancing with her hair as it flung itself wildly about her face in a dramatic tango. An urgent buzzing dueted with the engine. The cell phone sitting in the passenger seat on a folded black coat intermittently flashing “incoming call” and then “mother;” after five or so flashes of that, “incoming call” and then “John.”

She looked at the small frame swinging side to side from her rearview mirror. It outlined in gold a gentle face, splattered with freckles and little makeup, and surrounded dark curls.

“You sure love to drive around in this thing, don’t you?”

The woman beside her smiled and laughed softly, pulling her gaze away from the window to look in the driver’s direction.

She smiled as well. “I do. Its almost euphoric. Like a well choreographed dance, if you get the steps right. Life is like that; a dance I mean. You can be a wall flower and stay for the whole thing just watching others dance, or you can find a partner and dance yourself. Even if you have to leave the stage early, you are that much better for having participated in it at all.”

She held the wheel with one hand and reached out for the woman’s with the other. The brunette blushed softly, accepting it and returned her gaze to look back out the window, her curls being tugged by the breeze.

“I wish we could stay,” she whispered, “driving like this forever.”

A comfortable silence followed.

“Would you like to have lunch with me next Saturday? We could have a picnic in our usual spot around noon. You know the one behind that boulder that the road hugs.”

“I’d like that,” the woman said quietly, squeezing her hand.

freedom.

From an overbearing boss.

freedom.

From a self-righteous mother.

freedom.

From a fiancée she did not want.

freedom

To be with the one person she ever loved, no matter what it took to get to her.

She pushed the car past eighty miles per hour.

freedom.

The clock on the dash read 11:45

Twenty miles until the curve

freedom.

11:50

twelve miles.

freedom.

11:55.

Five miles.

She could see the rocky outline before her, too close to avoid.

freedom.

12:00

The phone rang once before it cut to an automatic voice message system.

Click.

“Sometimes when your partner leaves you alone on the stage, you have to follow them. You feel like a fool dancing without them.”