The wind swept over the seats of the convertible Mazda RX7. Her hair flowing in the wind. George Michael lyrics floating past her ears. The time was right. Nothing was left. Not after the long talk and the three-page letter. She let him have it. And she was right. She was off to better things, and better things felt so good. She was ready to bust a move. Ready to blame it on the rain. Ready to sow the seeds of love. Some place else. So the tape went in. The volume went up. And she went on.