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Weekly Contest #14
The ice in my glass clinks together, serving as the only sound I can hear for miles - besides the wind. I can smell the salty ocean air, and almost wish, for a second, that I was back in Miami with...well, I promised myself I wouldn’t think of him. It’s too late for that, though, really. Knocking me out of my midday daze is the loud slam of the cabin door behind me. Turning, I breath a sigh of relief. James, my right-hand man - and if you want to use technical terms, my “butler.” ”Ms. Thompson, the yacht will stop in about a half hour at Red...
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