Fighting back the tears in his eyes, John checked his watch, 6:54 am. He carefully removed the leather timepiece and hung it on his son's doorknob.
John sulked down the stairs and grabbed his coat.
Maybe James is right... maybe Allison left because I'm boring, he thought to himself, getting into his car.
"Okay, I'll fix it tonight," he said out loud. Starting the engine, he pulled out of the driveway and began his trek to the library, forty-five minutes off schedule.
The traffic didn't help his case, but he managed to pull into the Indiana State Library parking lot at 8:10 am.
Stepping out of the car, John winced in pain at the cut on his foot.
Placing both feet out of the car, John stood and all too suddenly sensed a familiar feeling—the feeling that he was being watched. His senses on high alert, he searched the empty parking lot.
But there was nothing, just the building, and the surrounding trees. Staring into the tree-line, John waited, though, for what, he did not know.
"What took you so long?" a voice said from behind him, suddenly breaking the silence. John almost jumped out of his skin. He hadn't even heard anyone walking up.
"Sorry, there was some heavy traffic on the way." John lied, trying to slow his racing heart.
"No worries, Fred told me to tell you to just tack the extra time to the end of your shift.
" The man patted John on the shoulder, handed him the keys to the library and walked toward his parked pick-up.
Fred, being John's boss, was usually strict with other employees on tardiness, but with John Grey it was different. He had not been late once in the last fifteen years.
If he was late, there was obviously a good reason.
"Alright, thanks, Chris. Sorry again!" he yelled. Chris stepped into his truck and waved in acknowledgment.
Chris worked the night-shift, and spent his days sleeping and taking classes in criminology; he didn't mind being able to come into work an hour later that night.
John watched him drive away, leaving him standing alone in the parking lot.
Taking one last glance at the tree line, he turned towards the library's double glass doors, writing off his paranoia as nothing more than a lingering feeling from this morning's disaster.
He had never been so wrong.