“You’re Bartholomew,” Kara said as she shifted from foot to foot uneasily, holding her breath, waiting for a response.

Sweat collected on the end of her nose and her palms felt clammy. She wished she hadn’t needed to wear a jacket today. For her own reassurance, she felt the metal that she concealed up her right sleeve. It was there, solid, unyielding, the last solution. Her eyes swept over the room briefly. It contrasted too sharply with everything boiling inside her and the purpose of this meeting. Soft light from the setting sun swept from the balcony and cast away the shadows in the deceptive room, giving the room a pleasant glow. Strange how a different world could hold such a similar appearance to their own and yet be so different, so barren, so depressing.

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