The Key
It was the time of the winter solstice, and the musky odor of inexpensive incense filled the streets of a tourist inhabited Cozumel. Claire stroked her tattered red hair as she awoke from her daydream. Aside from her frizzled hair, Claire's fortune seemed to be devastated by the Mexican air.
Claire looked over her shoulder. The man through the window of the storefront was conspicuously familiar. It had seemed her 'friend' wasn't looking for cigars at all; his eyes were watching Claire in the reflection of the window.
A quick look to the streets and Claire raised her arm. A…
