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I lean my face down, and I rub my wet salty cheek against its soft brown feathers.

Knowing I will never return, I sweep my eyes around the building top for the last time.

The view. The statues. The chopper. The rose garden. The herb garden. The BBQ and the white sofa.

This is it.

Remembering the cheat may arrive at any time, I realize it’s time to go. I’m nervous about saying goodbye to Falcon, but, it has to be done.

Slowly I look down at the large bird.

It leans against my leg and makes a small cry. Our eyes seem to meet, and I suspect it knows I am leaving.

I look at it closely, and I wipe my wet eye. “Bye baby.” As I stand, the Peregrine cries out, and it flaps, and runs. The wings bite, and the falcon flies a few feet.

I smile, and almost laugh.

At least there is some hope in the world.

As I move quickly downstairs, the main door suddenly buzzes. My heart pounds hard, before I realize if it’s Lorenzo, he’d just come up. He would not buzz.

“Hello,” I say nervously, leaning on the button near the elevator.

“Madam, it is Alfred,” the clear British accent says.

“Hi,” I say.

“Madam, are you alright?”

“Yes. No.” I say, before letting out a long breath. “Any chance you can take me to the airport?”

“I’ll be right up.”

I walk to the kitchen, and plan my simple note. This will be our last contact,ever.

Alfred drivesme to the airport, and we travel in silence. I want to talk to him, and I want to say something. Only I can’t.

We finally arrive, and I climb out of the comfortable Bentley. My legs feel shaky, but it has to be done. I need to start my new life.

Alfred places my three old fashioned bags on a large trolley, he’s a good man.

I can see he looks sad, and I suspect he knows somethings up. I’m usually chatty, and bouncy, but today I’m wearing dark glasses. I’m also cold and distant.

I have a soft spot for the sweet older gentleman, and I know he helped keep me alive after nearly freezing.

From what I can gather, he’s more used to demanding models and stroppy heiresses sending him out for muffins or coffees, and not a quiet girl like me.

The dear man has a kind heart.

I have never asked him for any kind of luxury, but I feel sick for not saying anything today. I feel like a coward, but I have nothing left to give.

Before I know it, I’m giving him a hug outside the airport.

I know I’m holding onto the older man, and I hope it does not come across as creepy. He is simply kind, caring and trustworthy, and I hope the hug instead of a long explanation, suffices.

Finally, I wipe a fresh tear, and step back.

“Good luck, Madam.”