Call Me Sarah

She made it forty minutes.

First stop: “just a coffee.”

Which turned into a breakfast bap and a hash brown, eaten in the car with the engine still warm.

An hour later, she pulled into a drive-thru without even thinking. By the time she was back on the road, the bag on the passenger seat was empty.

By hour three, it was basically routine—petrol station, snack aisle, something sweet, something salty.

“Road trip rules,” she shrugged.

By hour four, she felt it.

Nothing dramatic—just her leggings sitting a little tighter, the waistband pressing in when she shifted. She gave them a small tug and laughed.

“Okay… maybe one too many stops.”

Then she passed a bakery.

Slowed down.

And turned in anyway.

Because honestly?

Worth it.

Been a good day