The new assignment:
Just before the doors close on the 4:00 bus, a stubby man wearing a navy blue suit leaps on, out of breath. He takes a seat, four rows from the back. With one hand clutching his brown leather briefcase, he wipes his perspiring forehead with the other. It isn’t a particularly warm day for November in Dallas, but he sweats with anxiety knowing he’s on a tight schedule. Everything must be timed perfectly. At 4:21, he gets off at the 63rd Street stop. He steps off, pauses a moment to pull a manila envelope from his briefcase, his hands shaking. He walks over to the mailbox outside an Italian Restaurant and opens the hatch, as if to drop the mailbox inside, but instead he looks both ways and places it underneath. He stands up sharply. With a short sigh of relief, he fixes his suit jacket and walks away without looking back.
Around the corner a man takes one last drag of his cigarette. He walks casually over to the mailbox. He leans over and pulls the envelope from underneath it. He secures it under his left arm and walks three blocks to his apartment off Elm Street. When he gets up the stairs and opens the door, he drops the envelope on his kitchen table, atop a short pile of bills. He pulls the chain to illuminate the single light bulb hanging just above his head. The light catches a small collection of firearms hanging on the wall just past the kitchen. He sits down and carefully opens the envelope to reveal his next assignment: The President
Concept:
The person waiting is the smoking man
The person traveling is the stubby man
The package is the envelope
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