The Last of the Stanfields

by Marc Levy

The azure sky above made it hard to imagine it had rained throughout the night. On a motorcycle like hers, a slick road was a merciless thing. Feeling the warmth of the engine humming beneath her, Sally-Anne reveled in the Triumph’s speed as it swallowed the asphalt in front of it. The wind whipping at her face filled her with a sense of boundless freedom.