Bad things come in threes. Sure enough, she can divide her thus far life into thirds. Name each portion. Like hurricanes.
Minutes into the trip, sunshine splits the rainy sky in half with a rainbow, and then, as if that were not enough, a V of geese flies overhead, and she feels twice blessed.
First rest stop. Presiding over coffee and cookies, there he is. Relic of a war long since past, and he asks her hopefully, as she drops a dollar into the tip jar, if she’d like to hear a pirate joke, and then another, and another.
Getting back into the swing of writing, I gave myself a 100 word limit on this one.