She had to go.
Her work was suffering. The hive buzz was drowning her out and it needed a kicking. She couldn't do it any more, not for her sake, sure as shit not for his, or anyone else. She only knew she had to go.
Put the hire car on his card. Put the plane ticket on his card. Put the world on his card and bury him. Fucker.
A CD in the glove box, a picture of some cosmonaut chick on the cover. Candy Wilder? As good a name as any, for whoever she'd become.
Fag lit, ignition, press play and ease it into first.
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