The palm trees swayed in the breeze as Vivian gazed at her dog-eared airport novel—an airbrushed photo on the cover—not reading a word. So this is what it’s like she thought ...
For the first time in her life, Vivian wasn’t interested in reading a mystery story. Maybe it was the Caribbean breeze, maybe it was the rum punch, maybe it was being newly single, but she felt like being a mystery instead.
Despite it being hot enough for anyone to suspect that the inactive volcano in the vicinity was reviving, Vivian threw on a trench coat and pressed a fedora onto her head. She waited in the dark corner of a nearby bar, nodding to herself in satisfaction. Perfectly mysterious.
Mysterious enough that when Sam bumped into her a second later, he didn’t immediately recognize her. She kept her head down, hoping it would stay that way, but no such luck. “Viv? What on earth?” he demanded. He laughed. “Are you following me?”
The look on her face revealed the seriousness of her situation. “Keep your voice down. HE is watching.” Her eyes were filled with terror. She motioned for him to follow her into the alley. There she told him about the missing keys. Then left abruptly, leaving Sam perplexed.
He scanned the alley, hoping for any sign of her or the keys or anything that meant anything. But it was just an ordinary alley. Sam sighed and trudged back toward home. So much for a call to adventure.