Isla had sent the address and time for their outing. The message said to meet by six in the evening. It was already past six, but Ivan still sat in his hotel room, with a photo in his hand. In the phota was young woman, probably in her early thirties with a bright smile, brown hair like the one on his head. Beside her were two young boys. One about five years old, and the other maybe two or three years older.
A stray tear escapes his eye as his fingers traces the face of the lady in the picture. His phone buzzing non-stop beside him. He knew who was calling, but he wasn't planning on picking up.
