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TWENTY-TWO | ROSALIE
A few days later I stretched as best I could in the cramped seat of the old Honda Civic I was driving. I had borrowed it from Dani's older brother, with plans for him to come get it in a couple of days. I missed Old Betsy, but it was the only way I felt safe leaving Atlanta. I had spent the last week at Dani's recovering before heading out of town. I-75's broad expanse stretched out in front of me as I left the city behind and entered the Atlanta suburbs. Thankfully, traffic was light, and I was making good time. As the miles passed, the huge super-highway condensed from sixteen lanes to four and began meandering around the low hills of the Piedmont that led toward the Appalachian Mountains. I crossed over the bridge spanning a finger of Lake Allatoona and smiled when I noticed the few b
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