“Where did you go?” His girlfriend asked, arms folded, eyes narrowed, interrogation-style.
Pulling the earbuds out of his ears, he replied lightly, “You know where I go.”
“I thought I did.” She muttered.
He gently placed his hands around her arms, “Is something wrong?”
She looked away, “I had you followed.”
“Because you’re always running into that abandoned building in the corner. Why?” He stepped back with wide eyes as his mouth formed the word, how. “I followed you the first morning,” she sighed. “I followed you to the ‘Sidewalk Closed’ sign, you ran into the abandoned parking structure and disappeared. So where do you go?”
“Do you…How can you…No wonder,” He began pacing, trying to form a coherent sentence. “How can you do such a stupid thing? Do you know how much danger you’re in now that you followed me?” He finally said. “My boss will never put me on another job.”
“What are you talking about?” She frowned.
“Haven’t you realize what I do for a living?” He barked a short laugh. “Of course not, it’s not like anyone’s seen a real-life spy before.”
“You are a spy?”
A Response for Sunday Photo Fiction.