Pale skin made her standout. Too many heads turned in her direction.
Assassinations make people suspicious. Years of civil war did that to a country.
The heat was heavy and oppressive.
The hotel, a ramshackle construction of tin roofs and wooden struts, teetering on collapse.
The receptionist, red lips and false eyelashes, eyed her as she entered, but didn’t try to stop her.
Crumbling stairs to the top floor.
On the bed he lay, sweat-stained and feverish. Makeshift rags as bandages, drenched in red.
Eyes flickered recognition. ‘About time,’ Phillips mumbled.
‘Let’s get you out of here,’ she replied.
Written as part of the Friday Fictioneers challenge hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields (more details HERE). The idea is to write a short story of 100 words based on the photo prompt (above).
To read stories of 100 words based on this week’s prompt, visit HERE.
Further stories featuring the spy Phillips can be found here: THE PHILLIPS SPY STORIES
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