Not until the lizard flashed its cerulean tongue did she see it camouflaged on the sleeper.
Her words etched into the paper in bold cursive. She heard an affirmative whisper somewhere inside. It was a colossal accomplishment, from blank page to first sentence. She couldn’t imagine coming up with anything better.
She read over her words, rolled her pen between her fingertips, confidence slipping, determination still within her grasp, until that too fell away. When the first sentence flowed she’d had it in mind to write a paragraph, but no phrase that came to mind could compete with the words on her page. Still, her sentence represented an achievement of another sort, without question a turning from the harried life Ann Salter had left behind in Willinton.
With reptilian speed she’d escap
