The wind brings her mass of brown curls to life, swirling around her head almost in slow motion as she rises. She smiles, her eyes closed, as she turns towards the sun, letting it play across her face for a long moment. Finally she opens her eyes and spots her target. I tighten my grip on her belt as she raises her weapon, pulling it tight into her shoulder and leaning into the recoil as she fires. The car ahead of us bucks and swerves, betraying sudden panic. She drops an empty magazine at our feet and I press a fresh one into her waiting hand. As it retreats I see her looking back down at me through the window she's leaning out of, still smiling. She's the most beautiful woman in the world.
29 March 2015
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