Coconut Grove you will remember me.

Wandering for a long, long time. Her mouth firmed into a flat line, the barest approximation of a grimace, rather than her usual frown. She related. She couldn't think of a steady time in her life when she hadn't been on the move.

What the hell was home, anyway?

Manea, she answers briefly, returning her indigo gaze to his face. He was younger, maybe a couple years older than herself;

Older then Bronco—

Molten lava boiled in her belly at the thought of her very first love, still hung up on his shrew of a wife—wait, they'd separated, and then she'd left and found

Heda. She needed to find Heda again.

I have wandered a lot, too, she says, her voice soft. It was easier to focus on what they shared than what about him repulsed her. A tiny but vocal part of her needed a friend, right now.