Don't mess with Dizzy!Mature

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She was, as far as appearances go, the man with the bag.  Turning her chin to the right, she studied herself, feeling very odd.  The Muyrstone, she thought, and patted her pocket.  It was there.  She took a breath, and looked down at the sink in front of her.  She had large hands, that didn't feel clumsy or weird as she daydreamed, washing them with a bit of soap, and drying them on a plain towel hanging nearby.  


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It was time to figure out if he had been following her.  Moving more quickly, Dizzy stepped out of the doorless bathroom, her eyes immediately finding the small bag she had dropped the Muyrstone in.  A search of the contents turned up two items of interest, a grainy photo of her and her mom, and an airline ticket to Washington, D.C.


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She studied both in turn, torn between a throb of love for her mom, as she tried to puzzle out where the photo had been taken, and anger, muted, controlled, but undeniable, just the same.


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A phone vibrated, his phone!  After a second, she cleared her throat and patted the pocket that was vibrating, pulling the offending device from its hiding place and studying the backlit screen.  Unknown Caller, she read, thinking furiously.  Here goes nothing, or play it safe?  

The End

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