Happy Saturday, Chums!
“The recipient is an American girl, your age. A club kid. Tonight she’s at the Purple Flower Room. She calls herself Iris, and she’s got bottle-blue hair.”
So it was drugs . X or ketamine or that new one, Path, the “empathy drug.” It didn’t matter what the package was. In four hundred runs she’d never opened one or asked what was inside. “That’s what makes you a good runner,” Joe always said. “Light feet and no curiosity.”
“Where’s the pick up?”
“No package,” said Joe. “Just a message. Make sure you get it right. I need you focused, Rei.”