There Was Wind In Her Shoes
by Darren Stone

There was wind in her shoes.

There was wind everywhere. In the bedroom. In the orchard. Even in the old cereal box where she hid her letters.
She expected a wild gust might lift her over the car, so she held the door with both hands, quickly slid behind the wheel, pulled hard, and sealed herself inside.

She looked at the box in her lap.
Captain Crunch. Just the regular flavor. It was probably 6 years old, but the dreams inside were ageless.
There was a man once, and this cereal box no longer smelled like cereal.
This box smelled new, like young trees and fresh linens. And this box smelled old, like heavy wood floorboards and old Christmas ornaments.
This box smelled like clutched hands and lingering kisses.
Memories and anticipation.
This old cereal box had the mysterious smell of love.

She pulled a letter from the box, and held it to her lips.

She held her key ring in her open left hand, and examined each key.
House keys, office keys, fence, tool shed, whatever………each key a part of somebody's life that had now become her identity.
She took her car keys off the ring, and started the car.

She pressed the letter tight against her lips.

She let her window down and a fierce rush swept through the car. The car rocked from side to side. There was wind everywhere.
She turned her face to the gale and gasped in its power. Then she held both hands out of her window.

The old key ring dropped to the ground outside, the letter blew back into the car, and she felt tears. Tears of separation and tears of decision. Wind-driven tears.
Slowly, she raised the window, shook her hair, and picked the letter off the dash.
As she caught her breath, she read outloud, the words on the envelope - "Find Me."
She opened the envelope and removed a house key and a map.

There was wind in her shoes.