Raquel
The path forward lies over your heart.
It’s clearly another one of Dad’s coded messages, but I don’t have a sweet clue what he means.
Montpellier is a beautiful city near the edge of the Mediterranean Sea. It’s one of those amazing places where the old and the new weave together —where the shiny and efficient tramway network that zips past old buildings left over from the Reformation. Several storefronts are heavily decorated, some of them still sporting pumpkins and fall leaves while others have already moved on to festive Christmas paraphernalia.
There’s a university nearby, which means the city’s center square is bustling with activity. You’d think I’d learn to avoid big crowds, but in truth, hiding amongst a sea of people is the best way to disappear altogether. Dad’s first
