A gust of wind blew, and sand blurred her eyes.
She raised her hand, rubbing them.
A tear rolled down from the corner of her eye.
The yellow sand of Landon was truly scorching, it inadvertently made her cry.
Today, Jasmine Yale wore a light yellow coat, blending into the crowd, utterly ordinary.
Dragging her suitcase, she was petite and slender.
She made her way to the platform and hailed a taxi to the Cheney Residence.
The car drove along the road she knew best, a road she had traveled for over a decade, one she could navigate with her eyes closed.
She did indeed slowly close her eyes, with only the whistling wind remaining in her ears.
A little further on, there was a church, lined with poplar trees on the roadside.
Even further ahead, there was an old bell tower, the bell still tolling above.
"Eeh-ah, eeh-ah..." Eight-year-old her held Sylvan Cheney's hand, "Big Doggy, I want to go home with you."
"Hmm?"
