“I think I’m ready for our next journey,” I said.
Mag laughed and held up a picture of a small cobblestone cabin with a beautiful green walkway. I imagined birthday parties, Fourth of July celebrations, and so much more. It was going to be perfect.
“Well, buttercup. I think it’s time,” Mag said.
The three of us stepped outside, walking toward Donovan’s old Volkswagen.
“Time is an illusion,” I said, with a tight smirk. “But it’s an illusion I’m willing to keep.”
End.