At the coffee shop, Frank nursed his coffee, watching the barista pouring fancy drinks for fancy customers. The barista was a slim blonde, probably the age his daughter would be if he had a kid twenty years ago when he was first married. That marriage came and went, but he still thought about having children.
"Hey sir, let me freshen up that cup," she called over to him, sing-song.
Frank stood up slowly and shook his head. He thought about his hurried departure from the scene of his crime. He took a long bus ride back home, sleeping fitfully. Each mile between him and the crime made him feel more normal. But now he had to make his final getaway. He took care of the doctor's and now he had to get his shots. The lab was across the street.
"I have to get going," he said, pulling out a single for the tip jar.
"We all have to get going," she said, raising her eyebrows.
He let that be the last thing he heard as he pushed out the shop. He crossed the street and walked into the office building next door. The lab technician's office was empty.
He called out "Hello?", and an accented voice said "Make sure to sign before coming in."
He saw the slip of paper, and made a few X's in the empty row. He stepped into the small room and the technician patted the chair where he was to sit. He handed her a slip of paper and she grunted, before pulling on some gloves.
"It's good to get out of town once in a while," she said, as she rummaged in a glass cabinet.
"I agree," he said. He eyed the syringes sealed in plastic. He had pilfered them from her office the last time he was here. She was a very old woman, and she moved slowly from one part of the room to the other, complaining about how large her lab was.
She put down two vials and told him to remove his shirt so she could access his shoulder. He did so. She took her time with each shot. When she was finished, she put a band-aid over where she injected him. "You're all set," she said.
He put on his shirt, and started to feel whole. He was ready now. When he left the building, he walked slowly down the street. A silver SUV passed him, but then its brake lights came on. The driver side door opened, and a burly man came out, and motioned to Frank.
"Hola, amigo," the thick-set man called.
"Hello to you," Frank said, as he stopped in front of the man.
"Why don't you take a ride with us," the man asked, as he pulled open the back-seat door. It was dark inside, but Frank could see someone smoking. He shrugged, and stepped inside.87Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡbV8lAiQWvN
