SUZUE
Placing a hand over my mouth, I stifled the nth yawn that was about to break free.
Morning light infiltrated through the white curtains from the glass window. My mood wasn't yet set and I was having a hard time trying to keep my eyes open.
Giving up on trying to have some meditation, I laid flat on my back, the yoga mat protecting me from directly touching the stone-cold floor.
Shades of white and the fluorescent lights invaded my perception and the events from last night had me thinking about a lot of things.
Margaux Cortez.
I have heard of her. I don't exactly remember where and when. But, now that I think about it, a small part of my brain seemed to have noted that it wasn't the first time that I had heard of her name.
"Ah," now it clicked into place.
