Touching Smoke
“The early morning sunlight shone around him, bouncing off the silver cutlery and the polished marble. He was surrounded by columns, wrapped in rose vines. Beyond that was the ocean, lapping and dancing beneath the rays of warm light. Gone were the clouds, but the fresh scent of rain, sea salt, roses, moist soil and dewy grass lingered in the air. Garrison glanced up briefly when we found him. Then, he continued drowning his tea in honey.
“Good morning!” he greeted us. “I trust you slept well.”
We hadn’t. We’d stayed up most of the night, or what was left of it after we’d arrived, devising ways to escape. But several things kept hindering those plans, no car, no idea where we were and no way of escaping with the guard issued to stand outside our door, hired to follow us if we took even one step out the door. At that moment, the guard in question stood just on the inside of the terrace doors, close enough to intervene if needed, but far enough not to appear as though he was following.
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