I pull into the layby, fish a tissue from the glove-box. In our early days I’d stop here on my way home to fix my make-up, wanting to look my best for you – now I pull in here to cry.
A rainbow streaks the sky. I used to believe there'd be a pot of gold at the end, used to believe in so many things; the man in the moon; wishing upon a star. I used to believe in you.
The lights of the bus loom closer. Take a chance. I leap from my car and flag it down. It’s time to start again.