When the sun hit his face he closed his eyes and was back on the white sandy beach with her. He could feel the hot sand and smell her apricot body lotion. Her eyes were green like the sea at dawn. They watched violet sunsets getting wasted on icy beers at beach cafes. She would slowly lick the salt off the rim of the chilled glass and laugh at his attempts to speak Spanish. He could taste her tongue in his mouth tart from the limes. She led him to her apartment down a cobbled path.
He was totally smitten, and she said she had never met anyone like him. They hung out for the two weeks he was on Spring Break, and they were making plans for her to come to L.A during the summer. They would live together in his apartment.
On their last night, she asked him for a favor. “ Mi Amor, take this package to my grandmother in East LA. She needs these documents to help her get a green card.”
He was proud she trusted him.
The German shepherd at the customs line started barking. He was yanked out of line and taken to a back room, stripped; then his luggage was torn apart. They found the “letters” containing tiny cellophane bags of cocaine.
The horn blast to return to his cell woke him from his daily beach reverie.
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