Safe.

Moving forward.

I can feel the world flying by beneath me when I'm on the highway. Each turn, each tiny bump of the concrete against the tires, is gone the second you feel it, immediately replaced by another.

There's an erratic rhythm to it, like a heartbeat. That, combined with his, which I could hear clearly with my head against his side, formed a perfect beat, one I could fall asleep to, one I could smile to, or dance to, or live by. It'd only been six hours, and yet I was so unbearably happy to be at his side again, where it's warm, where it's safe, where at each sharp turn his arm would hold me a bit tighter than before.