Aurelia stood at attention, clacking the high heels of her black-leather boots, and, after a quick nod of the shin, she spun 180 degrees and strode to...the door. Her mind was already churning over the case, composing the character she would have to play during the next weeks. She walked to the special agents’ quarters and entered her office, typing her personal code at the door. On her table the file was waiting for her. For the next two hours, she read the document thrice, engraving all. If only... Yet things with his wife were not all right. He considered, for instance, the few hours she'd lain next to him on the beach. Had she talked to him? No. Flirted with him, touched him, swum with him, glanced at him, or in any way recognized his existence? No. No to all of them. He could have made the move, of course, but he'd known how flat her response would have been, and that knowledge did not invite making any moves. Things were stale between them and that was that.And why, anyway,. More

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