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Fallen Ambitions

Page 5

by Guy S. Stanton III


  Chapter Three

  Hunted

  Desirée laughed and shook her head at a funny story that Lonigan had just told. “You’re terrible!” She exclaimed.

  Smiling gruffly, Lonigan shrugged and took another sip of his coffee. It was getting late and the classic styled diner they sat in had begun the process of closing down for the night.

  They both knew what that meant. Soon they’d have to go back out and find a place to stay for the night.

  Quite a few times they’d spent the night in the car. The problem with that however was that the car was in the shop. They would be on foot tonight.

  They both glanced away from the actions of the short order cook, who had just flipped the ‘Open’ sign around on the front door of the small diner, to stare meaningfully into each other’s eyes. Tonight was different. They both sensed it and yet there was nothing to be done, but to face it head on.

  Rising up, Lonigan then, ever the old-fashioned gentleman, extended his aged hand to Desirée. She took it and rose gracefully.

  They made an odd looking couple. His bald head and aging white features cast against her darker skin color and vivacious youthfulness. The differences however only went skin deep, because the two of them had grown closer together than many family members could ever hope to achieve. Such are the bonds of a friendship continually tested by fire.

  Lonigan had never had a family of his own, but very much Desirée had become the daughter he’d never had and yet his manner of approach to her was always one of respect as that of a servant to a beloved master. He didn’t bother asking permission, but with a hand to her back he ushered her behind the counter of the diner and towards the back delivery door of the place, which he knew existed from prior observance.

  He never entered any place that boasted of only one exit. His instincts were honed over a lifetime of being the hunter, who now instead found himself in the role of the hunted. The cook looked up with surprise and made to protest, but one look at the hard grey chipped eyes of Lonigan and the $50 bill that he tossed backward to land on the counter halted all further comment.

  Reaching the back door he opened it and they both stepped out into the night.

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