There were few things in the world Sal found more evocative than the sight of a plane, made small by distance, climbing deeper and deeper on a day when the sky was blue as a whale’s iris. The tug in her gut, her tightening heart – it was as though she was bound to it by a gossamer thread, slowly unravelling as it left without her.
The possibilities – so many! – crowded her, fought for her conscious mind and jostled it hither and thither, past beaches and balustrades and yawning basilica. She could almost feel the pack on her shoulders once more.