All the surrounding stars of the night form patterns and are organized. Why couldn't a case such as this be so clear and precise. As the town sleeps, I pace my floor with some scotch and a gently lit fire. This is how I think when I'm stuck. Whether is cases, troubled conflicts, and most of all the female species. How those women live and think I'll never understand. I'm not nessasarly feminist they are just the worlds biggest case. Only God could put together. As I was saying my thinking routine goes sort of like this scotch, pace, think. Scotch, pace, think. In other matters these letters, why such hardship to hide them all just to lead to the culprit. I mean if it were me I would make this simple but angonizingly hard. As if it was staring at you in the face. Hmmm I have the letter but where to go?
I started shaking the paper violently, "why don't you say somthing!" As if it could talk. Suddenly my thumb caught a hidden flap in the letter. I grasp it open
And to find coordinates!
Konzoontike!
Picture:http://www.deviantart.com/art/Secret-Message-81761527
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