The wind picked up. She pulled out her earphones and played the track again — On s'en ira . The chill mix. The one where the beat doesn't push; it carries. Like water. Like memory without panic.
Lena stood up. Her legs had gone numb, but it felt like someone else's body. She rolled her suitcase to the loading ramp, showed her ticket to a sleepy crew member who didn't check her name. Goulam ft Dj Pakx - On S- en Ira -chill mix 202...
The song had come on earlier — that track her friend Marco had sent her months ago, the one with the soft, looping piano and the vocal that seemed to breathe rather than sing: "On s'en ira…" — we'll go away. The wind picked up
Not running toward something. Not even running away. The one where the beat doesn't push; it carries
The song looped again in her head: On s'en ira. On s'en ira.