"Look, man, it's none of my business," a security guard in the lobby said. "I'm staying out of it."
"But I really could use your help." I waved my arms to capture his attention. "This book doesn't belong to me, and I need to return it."
"Can't it wait until tomorrow?" He crinkled his eyes. "Well, can't it?"
I grabbed a fistful of the man's shirt. "No, it can't wait."
"What's the book about."
I gave him a deadpanned stare. "Can you call her to the front desk?"
"She isn't here."
"I see her car out front."
"Is there any reason she won't buzz you in?"
I hung my head. "We had an argument," I said, almost grinding my teeth, virtually to conceded I was at fault.
"See, she must not want to see you."
I craned my neck around the corner. "Jenna," I said, extending both arms with the book. "It's here. Your favorite book." I winked.
Jenna opened the book, removed the pistol between the pages, and shot the security guard to death to rob the front lobby. What? I never said we were good people.
YOU ARE READING
The Lonely Position of Neutral
PoetryBen's throat cancer has returned. Living a lonely life, he found a woman he loves but finds out she's been unfaithful. Ben starts to think the lonely position of neutral isn't that bad. He writes poems and dialogue narratives. Will Ben survive cance...
