Читать книгу Sqerm - James A. Moore - Страница 8

Chapter 4

Sage stood at the sink in the kitchen and filled a portable cup with what most would have thought to be cream and sugar garnished with coffee. He grabbed the apple and the napkin and then headed for the door. There was a brief pause to look at a bike in his garage. It was rare that he rode it; he tended to favor jogging at this point in his life. Jogging was stress relieving; it prepared him, and it kept him in shape.

He turned toward his vehicle. It was a late-model mid-sized SUV that he found comfortable. Once inside, he secured himself with the seat belt. It clicked audibly; he tugged on the belt to adjust and snug the tension. Around the rearview mirror dangled a thin, simple gold chain. Attached to the chain was a capital letter V. He turned on the radio and switched it from a news channel to a station that played music. He listened to the light music as he made his way to the college where he worked. He paid little attention to the traffic and eventually found himself in the parking lot. He had gone right brain and did not remember much of the drive.

He put the car in park, opened his sunshades, and secured them in the windshield with the vehicle’s sun visors. The heat of the day was already building, and the thought of holding a hot steering wheel did not appeal to him. He grabbed his lanyard from the console, but the attached ID card had become wedged between the seat and console and had impeded his progress. He leaned into the vehicle to free it, being careful not to spill his creamy ambrosia. Once the card was free, he threw the lanyard over his neck and righted himself. He looked in the mirror and adjusted his tie. He drew his hand down the length of it, smoothing it. He left the vehicle and briskly walked to the security checkpoint where a guard in his late forties sat at a desk reading newspapers. Sage showed his badge and smiled at the guard. The guard beamed a smile back. The guard considered Sage a friend; Sage considered the guard an acquaintance.

“Good morning, Professor Weiss.”

“Good morning, Hal,” said Sage.

“Hey, Professor…did you hear about the new condos going in downtown?”

“No, I didn’t. Kind of out of it this week.”

“Man, one day—that’ll be me.” The guard pointed at the condos, then handed Sage the paper. “Here, take my copy,” said Hal.

“Thanks, Hal.” Sage grabbed the newspaper, folded it under his arm, and walked to his classroom. Once inside the room, he observed the students filing in. Some of the students greeted him, and he proffered greetings back to them.