Look My Way
When the plane began to move, I looked out the window.
The city stretched beneath the clouds—cold, glittering, beautiful, and full of ghosts.
I pressed my hand gently over my stomach.
“Zayne Ford,” I whispered, “we’re truly over.”
The engines roared, and for the first time, I didn’t flinch.
The city grew smaller, then vanished entirely beneath the clouds.
And just like that, I was free.