It was early Saturday morning, and the world outside my window was covered in fresh snow. It was nearly time for me to leave for the train station. "We need you to deliver a package." My assignment was simple enough. I was to pick up the package on my way to the Trenton train station and deliver it, upon my arrival in D.C. "K will be waiting for you at the cafe in Union Station."
The two-and-a-half hour train ride to Washington D.C. was uneventful, but when I deboarded in Union Station, something was amiss. The cafe was quiet, too quiet.
K fixes things. All sorts of things. Primaries. Playoffs. If the fix is in, it's likely that K is doing the fixing. And it was not like K to be late.
I selected a table in the corner (if you can rightly call any table in the round restaurant under the rotunda, a corner table) and waited. My cell phone vibrated in my pocket. "There's been a change of plans. I'll meet you in an hour," K said, "at the hotel."
I took the red line to Metro Center, the orange to Foggy Bottom. It was a short walk from the metro to the boutique hotel. The air was crisp. I looked forward to delivering the package and enjoying my free day in D.C.
Exactly one hour after the phone call from K, there was a knock on my hotel room door. It was the D.C. police.
Comments (7)
........ and?
*on the edge of her seat*
hahaha re: corner tables in round restaurants under rotundas. !
Yes? This isn't fair to leave us hanging like this.
@promisesunshine - @History_Nut - Sorry to keep you in suspense, but I have very limited internet privileges in lockup.
ah. lock up.
K fixed you all right. Never trust anyone who sends you to Foggy Bottom.
Oh, you'll in be lockup all right!