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escaping with a band of gypsies.
    What would I miss in here? I silently wondered.
    A painting on the wall caught my eye. A woman with red hair chased butterflies along a beach shore. I didn’t know what it was about that painting. There was something so ethereal, so serene and beautiful, I had to have it. It was the only thing I’d ever purchased for myself. I spent a fortune on it, (apparently the painting was really, really old) but I didn’t care.
    The painting was too big to stuff in my little duffel bag. I had to leave it behind. A shame, too. My mother would likely toss it out.
    I diligently finished packing, trying not to reflect on the things I would miss. They were just things, after all.
    I jotted off a quick note to my mom. I hadn’t allowed myself a long time to overanalyze it. If I had, I would’ve been spent hours writing. Instead it was short, simple and to the point.
    Mom,
    I’m going on a spontaneous trip. I don’t know when I’ll be back.
    Please don’t worry. I’m fine. I’ll call as soon as I can.
    Love,
    Essie
    “You okay, Estelle?" Lola’s eyes met mine in the rearview mirror.
    “I’m fine,” I said, forcing a smile.
    I wasn’t fine.
    If everything they said was true and I was genuinely a descendent of gypsies, then I must really suck at it. I’d been a recluse almost my entire life. I didn’t know how to exist outside of my little bubble.
    “By the way, I meant to ask you something. Why did you call me Sarah when we first met?”
    “Serena,” Lola corrected. “It was the name I knew you by.”
    “When was that?”
    “My memories are still fuzzy, but I’d guess somewhere in the early eighteen hundreds.”
    I saw her smile at me in the reflection of the mirror. “I knew you like I knew my own family.”
    I contemplated on that, wondering about my past self, or rather past selves. I wondered what I was like, what kind of gypsy I used to be. It was weird knowing I’d lived lives outside of this one. I was probably someone who traveled and saw most of the world not constricted by the confines of a house. That girl must have loved life. I bet she was carefree, fiercely independent, confident of herself.
    She must have been amazing.
     

     
    We arrived at Union Station within the hour, mostly thanks to Gabe speeding the entire way. I found it ironic after hearing him mention he was a cop.
    The place was empty, lifeless, not exactly how I imagined it to be. The architecture was intriguing though. A mixture of Spanish and Moorish designs on the outside with renovated, modern fixtures on the inside.
    Rex retrieved our tickets while the rest of us waited in the lobby. I fidgeted anxiously the entire time.
    “Why don’t we just keep on driving?” I asked Lola, assuming it would be just as fast. Probably faster, actually.
    “None of us can know where we’re headed,” she explained. “Lina gave Rex her location earlier. He’s buying the tickets because his thoughts can’t be traced.”
    “But won’t the destination be printed on the tickets?” I asked. “And won’t there be signs near our platform? For that matter, won’t someone make an announcement?”
    “Don’t look and don’t listen,” she suggested, shrugging.
    I was not subdued by her advice. At all.
    I presented her with a look that said, “ Your plan seems ridiculous ”.
    “If it happens, it happens. Just try not to pay attention.”
    “I don’t know, Lola. It sounds a little farfetched for me to believe we can ride this train the entire way without knowing where we’re going.”
    Rex walked up from behind, catching the last part of our conversation. “Any distance we cover without the trackers knowing will be worth it.”
    Lola agreed with him, adding, “Make sure you plug yourself in when we board. They typically make an announcement before departing. Did you bring headphones?”
    I nodded and opened the front pocket flap of my bag to find them.
    “Good. Keep your music on till we’re moving and