Under Loch and Key

by Lana Ferguson

But when I finally see the glittering surface of the loch come into view, the sun shining on the small waves and making them sparkle, I think maybe it was worth all the steps.

“Right. Well, best move along now. The weather is supposed to turn.” She peers up into the sun with a hand over her eyes, frowning. “It’s sunny out.” “Welcome to Scotland,” I chuckle. “The weather has a mind of its own.”

Once the words are out there…the damage is done.

That would be utterly mental.

It occurs to me that I don’t even have his phone number. Hell, I haven’t even seen him with a phone. It’s so strange to be in a position where I haven’t found myself checking it consistently, a far cry from life back in New York, to be sure. I actually kind of like it.

You are not who you are because of where you come from; you are who you are because of where you choose to go.