The port of Algeciras felt like the other side of the world to Maria. She did not know why she had agreed to oversee the shipment of one of their drugs in the first place. Lorenzo would often catch her twisting and turning, occasionally struggling against the seatbelt like a caged animal yearning to be set free. A few annoying sighs left her lips, and Lorenzo almost found her behaviour comical.
And for the first time since they got off the jet, she spoke, "Are we there yet?" She whined like some three-year-old.
Lorenzo looked at her like she had just lost her mind. "We've barely been on the road for ten minutes."
"Yeah, but it felt like we'd been on that plane for hours," she grumbled, and Lorenzo shook his head at her dramatic antics.
"It was forty-five minutes, Maria," he said, and she grumbled in response.
"Well, it felt like hours to me."
