Three Decades of Pretending Come to an End in a Military Holding Cell
“Dismissed, Colonel.”
I picked my faded blue folder up off the floor.
I stood and gave a sharp salute.
Thomas returned it.
At 1400 hours I walked into the main lobby of the motel.
The air conditioner rattled quietly against the front window.
I was carrying a single cup of black coffee from the breakfast counter.
My cell phone vibrated in my trouser pocket.