No, Not Me. The Real Thief.Noon, somewhere over the Eastern SaharaEver flown over a desert?I figure the closest comparison is flying over the Arctic on a cloudless day. Except for the color, snow dunes look an awful lot like sand dunes.I turned away from the port window and tried to get comfortable in the . . . well . . . not seat. Let’s go with pile of bags and blankets and leave it on a positive note. This was a significant change from the modes of transportation I’d gotten used to as of late—luxury cruises, private jets . . .Cargo plane.The cargo plane itself didn’t bug me. It was a relief to be somewhere I felt safe.It was the damn chickens. The rooster especially kept crowing and pulling me out of my hard-won sleep, which I was trying to catch up on. After the power on the Vegas Strip was leveled, we bumped up our departure time. No one blamed me outright. They were just happy to have me gone.Oh yeah, and there was the small issue of my curse. After Rynn had corralled me into taking a long, cold shower to lower my body temperature, he’d gotten out the heavy-duty Tylenol.
What do You think about Owl And The City Of Angels?
