“The usual, he thought: several bills, a pile of catalogs seeking to burst the box, and an assortment of random junk mail. The sun arced over the surrounding hills on its way downward, half-concealed in clouds and throwing off bright beams of light alternating with shade to create a complicated woven pattern in the dimming sky. Sunshine. Something he might be able to enjoy if he weren't working so damn hard writing code all day long. A gray VW Jetta pulled up the street and came to a stop in... the driveway across from his house. The Agent. Everyone on the block knew The Agent, he thought with some annoyance. How anyone came to know he worked for the FBI had been forgotten, but everyone knew. The man didn't deny it if asked, but he didn't offer much either. Keeps to himself, would be the nicer way to put things. Morrison preferred arrogant and aloof. The man never participated in block or neighborhood activities, rarely spoke with his neighbors. Always seemed to have important things to do, more important than the ordinary Joes he lived around.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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