A faded bus rocked gently from side to side as it wound through blue mountains. Its rhythm lulled the passengers into a half-sleep. The sun floated behind slate clouds.
Mo looked through the window, as the bus moved through old mountain passages. She saw her reflection – a ghost superimposed on the passing forest. Her mother had been dead 6 months. Leaving New York, Mo hoped leave everything behind, but her inheritance.
The bus took her down along highways and roads, tributaries leading closer to an alternate future. She stared out the window, watching for something to stand out in the deep green wash of trees. She saw nothing, but the faint lines of her face quivering in the glass. A barrier between herself and the green world passing by.