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Summary
“Just go already,” Diotima says, shooing him in and swinging the door shut. When he rolls down the window, she rolls her eyes. “Don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine. After you graduate, you can come back with that knowledge from the devil and tell me all about it.”
He laughs at that. If it comes out a little flat, neither of them mentions it.
He has one suitcase, one backpack, and the clothes on his back. There's still room for one more in the back seat.
“I’ll write,” Anaxa promises, leaning toward the open window as the driver shifts the car into gear. He doesn’t know how, but he’ll find a way.
Diotima only smiles and waves.
Or:
Escape was never a possibility.