The King 68
by Mitchell Jespersen
It made sense she was Scandinavian, given her platinum blond hair, straight, cut at neck level, her light skin with some light freckles high on her cheeks. But something made her seem to Mitchell other than an ordinary Norwegian. Something was off about her. The fact that she agreed to sit and talk at length with him, a perfect stranger, had struck him as odd. He liked it, of course. A love story.