Eyes refusing to open, I get up and rush down the stairs to find a damp, torn envelope laid on top of the doormat. I tear it open and I scan through it, the few words I did read said that I was chosen to go on a special mission.

Now what do I need to pack? Shorts or trousers? Jumpers or not? Who knows? The annoying thing about the letter is that it hasn’t told me where I’m going.

I rushed to Heathrow and hopped onto the nine o’clock plane. Apparently it would take seven hours to get to my destination.

As the air hostes speaks I look out the window and wonder where I am.

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