Fate

Last night, I heard a crazy woman playing the güiro in the middle of the night in a dark alley. - So what? It's the sound of death, and I think I died.

Cato still clutched the slip of paper as he woke, the words burned into his vision even when he closed his eyes. Usually, he didn't believe in fortune telling, but this message—probably written by some bored factory worker thousands of miles away—had sunk its claws into him and refused to let go…