61Rupert sat in the back of a red taxi. Despite his short legs his knees were pressed against the vinyl back of the front bench seat. Incense permeated the car. Though he had been to many places where incense was common he had never smelled such an odor. Perhaps it was the combination with the pine scented cardboard tree hanging from the rearview mirror and whatever stench the driver was contributing. The temperature had climbed to ninety degrees although the sun had not yet risen to its midday position. The taxi’s air conditioner coughed and clanked a futile protest, pushing hot air around the cabin. Rupert tried the switch to open the window that resulted in an impotent click. When the taxi stopped in front of the San Pedro mosque Rupert exhaled forcefully, trying to push away the heat a
