THE CAR RATTLED down the road like a half-dead serpent. It sputtered like the sound of a wheezing man, the chipped red paint on its body the color of American blood. The make and model did not matter, but what did matter was the fact that after eight months at college in California, Sarah Towson was back, riding home with her crazy grandpa in a car from the â€™50s, heading straight to Breezewater, Georgia, from the airport in Savannah. Sarah was as happy as a baby getting its ears pierced, but her emotions only stirred in the inside. On the surface, a broad smile painted Sarahâ€™s lips as she allowed the wind to stir her light brown hair.
|Letting Go by Katie George|