From the back of the limousine, she felt small and quite out of place. It was too big and open and far too fancy. She wished that she could just blink her eyes and be home. She missed the farm buildings, the animals, the smells, and, above all, her parents. She missed the peace and tranquility of her familiar and quiet surroundings. She missed waving crops and blue skies, a landscape free from the crowdedness of big, bulky buildings and swarms of people. Staring people, she thought. She was tired of people staring at her, and her head was still reeling from when they had departed the hospital only thirty minutes ago. Alejandro sat opposite her, his back to the driver and his cell phone pressed to his ear. He spoke in a language that she didn’t understand, but the words flowed like rapid-fire music. She liked listening to the strange words, full of s sounds. The end of each sentence seemed to lift as if hooking into the next sentence. There was music to these words, music that she never noticed before she had met Alejandro.
