Dear Renae,

One time somewhere in the South, I threw the car into park at a stoplight like some kind of subconscious wish to be done, to be still. And Hunter gave me a look I’ve never seen before on her face, like I was either the biggest lunatic or the wildest circus master in the world, maybe both, before I’d realized what I’d done. I laughed hard in disbelief as I threw it back into drive, pulled out on the green, into motion where we belonged.