It’s a Sunday night. It’s raining, earlier it snowed, but the snow turned to sleet and sleet to rain. I hate rain, it makes me wet and I’m not particularly fond of being wet. Not that I mind taking showers, having a bath or swimming, but I don’t fancy being wet when I don’t mean to. Like tonight. I’m working; I’m a security guard at a downtown apartment building. There are three of us here. One has to stand outside, on sits at the desk looking at the cameras and signing guests in and out. The third guy basically does nothing. Even though we change posts every hour, it feels like I’m always standing outside, Mike’s always at the desk and Doug is always doing nothing. I guess that’s just natural, I mean Mike is like this extremely responsible guy, who takes his job very seriously so he’s perfect at the desk post. Doug’s unbelievably lazy so doing nothing comes quite naturally to him. And me? Well I’m the guy that stands outside. And usually I don’t mind it very much; fresh air while I’m smoking is very nice. But at a night like this one I’d love to have Doug’s job.


A gray car stops across the street. Two guys step out of it. Two pieces of paper are blown out of it, and one of the guy runs after them. Then I notice. The guy’s a chick, nice brunette with short-cropped hair. She’s wearing a bulgy white wool sweater with a turtleneck that would better suit a giant. It’s only the swaying of her hips, and the tiny bulges her tits make through the sweater, that give her gender away. The guy helps their baby out of the car. I’m assuming it’s theirs. They go inside the house across the street, but leave the car running. Five minutes later the guy comes out again, gets in the car and drives off. Maybe they’re divorced, or maybe they’re siblings. Incestuous siblings maybe, though I doubt it. Nothing happens for a few hours. The inhabitants of the house start arriving from they’re movie theaters and live theaters. The young people in their latest fashion yuppie clothes and the older in their Armani suits and designer dresses. I hold the front door open for them and smile.

“Good evening Mr. and Mrs. Smith, did you have a nice time?”
“Yes Dooley thank you very much.”

It’s a farce we play every night, I pretend to be interested and they pretend to be flattered and we all smile our false smiles.


A nondescript car stops across the street. Out steps an elderly gentleman, in white robes. He has a long gray beard and a turban. He walks with a cane. He spots me and walks towards me.

“Excuse me sir, but could you possibly direct me to the American Embassy?”
“Yes that’s not a problem sir. It’s right down the street, second house on the left after the second intersection.”
“Thank you very much sir.”
“No problem, have a nice night.”
“I most surely will.”

He’s smiling when he walks back to his car. He gets in, and the car drives away. That’s when I notice that he wasn’t driving. It probably doesn’t matter, but I get the distinct feeling that I’ve seen him before. Nothing happens for a few hours more. Then I hear a tremendous explosion. And very shortly I hear sirens. Mike comes out.

“Do you know what that was John?”
“An explosion I guess.”
“Yeah the American Embassy was blown up!”
“Oh”

I shrug.