A good head on my shoulders

My mouth was parched.

Digging a bottle of water out of my bag, sweat trickled down my neck underneath a mound of steamy hair. 

Somehow in seconds this stranger had keyed into my wrecked state of affairs. 

I dropped onto the bus bench. 

Dizzy. Trying to get grounded. 

I clenched my butt cheeks on the bench and felt the hot sidewalk under my soles. 

I am here now. What do I know, what do I know. 

A good head on my shoulders, everyone always said so. University degree in French literature. A loving family. Performing talent. A leader.

Not a sad story. Not a charity case. Not someone known for her bad judgment. 

But here it was. An offer from Mephisto.

He appeared groomed, well-spoken and sympathetic. Successful. He was even handsome in that older man kind of way, sleek and tan.

I glanced at my watch.