It was dusty in Madrid that day. The summer sun beat down on the man, who hurried despite the heat. There wasn’t another soul in sight. Everyone was home eating lunch and doing their best to stay cool. A few people saw him from their windows and wondered what would drive someone to be out in this heat.
It was urgency that drove him from the cool shade of his small apartment. He had to get to the bookstore before the strange men. He turned down calle de los libreros and froze, seeing several figures loitering around the store, waiting.