Later that same day after running into each other at the pool, Navale was flagged down by the resort’s concierge. “Apologies for interrupting your day, Ma’am, but a message was left for you.”

Instead of a digital message, the young man working the desk slid a small envelope made of a heavy white paper. The front had a tidy script that said Navale and the flap was secured with a small silver sticker, indicating it hadn’t been opened.

Inside was a flat card in the same tidy script that said: Experiments taken many forms. Join me for another one? 1900 hours, Tuanala Wharf. ~Sam

~Sam, Host of Florence’s