It was just after sunset and the sky was a pinky orange sliver. The warm Santa Ana’s blew a hot breeze at the palm trees which swayed energetically. The pink balloons on the mailbox tried to  break free from their tethered prison. Emily could still hear the chatter from the party and the clinking of silverware even as she got closer to her car. The neighborhood had a relaxed calmness despite the parties muffled chaos.  It was nice to hear it from afar. Emily reached her Volvo, which was dusty and covered with leaves from the strong winds. She wiped her hands along the hood clearing out a spot to lean up against. She turned to face the house to watch the bustling party in the large Bay window. It was dark now, so the lights from inside illuminated the guests going about their regular party business. The need to cry had dissipated and she could appreciate it with more clarity from this safe distance, from atop her trusty Volvo.