She was lost. It didn’t scare her, but just sent a little prickle of excitement up her bac

She was lost. It didn’t scare her, but just sent a little prickle of excitement up her back. That was, of course, the purpose of the journey. Still, she clutched at the tiny suitcase the way a drowning man would a piece of driftwood. Her last battered connection to her own world, bouncing along the winding gravel road into the unknown. When the pickup stopped, she was unable to move for a second. She’d been…distracted, and the scene came upon her suddenly. A cottage nearby, perched on a rocky hilltop, presiding over steep valleys leading down to the sea. Miles away, carefree boats splashed in the waves, and birds flitted through the trees along the road. But they were completely alone in the silence. It was a view to die for. In a way, she had died to be here. The old her. The scared her. The one who dressed for show. She looked so out of place, but was so much at home. He pulled the creaking door open, and she hesitated just a second. The light caught him from the side, and the wind played with his shock of hair. The stubble on his chin sparkled, and his worn but fitting shirt tugged on his form. But it was the smile, a bit crooked on the left side, that hid nothing, but promised a future mystery. There were some things in the world that no amount of pearls could make more beautiful. ———————————————– Would you like to see more? Uyuni. -- source link

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