Stan merged onto the expressway and let the engine open up.
Four Seasons Garden was twenty minutes away. The sun was sitting low on the horizon, painting the sky in streaks of amber and rose. The wet road hissed softly under the tires.
It had been a long day. His class. The rain. Vivian Reeves and her three-million-dollar attitude problem. The car.
The thought of Sophie's apartment, the balcony, the fried chicken, the fun and quiet, pulled at him with a warmth that had nothing to do with the system and everything to do with the simple, human pleasure of ending a difficult day in comfortable company.
He took the exit for Four Seasons Garden, rolled through the gate with a nod to the security guard who recognized his car, the security guard was looking at it like a car fanatic...
Stan shook his head with a smile and parked the Huracán in the visitors' bay with a satisfying chirp of the tires.
