Not a Second Time -COMPLETED-

Jump the Gun

Jump the Gun

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I need a fix cuz I'm going down...

The Beatles, Happiness is a Warm Gun

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The air was cool and humid. The sky was beginning to clear up, blue patches showing through the gray.

Ariel led the way, her gait bouncy. She was humming a song Elvis didn't recognize, the tune happy and upbeat.

They walked through the city. It wasn't crowded. All the tourists had taken shelter, leaving them among the rain drenched buildings.

Elvis was barely aware of where they were going. He was too busy trying to take in everything around him.

It was incredible.

It was incomprehensible.

He wasn't paying attention to the point that when Ariel stopped he nearly ran into her.

"Right there," she said, pointing to a small building wedged between a Starbucks and a tourist gift shop.

It was whitewashed, and looked neat and clean. The front window read: Thompson's Travel in big font and below that: We'll get you anywhere you need to go.

"Well," said Ariel, after they had stood there for a good ten minutes. "Are you going in?"

Elvis frowned, a fact dawning on him that should have been obvious in the first place. "Ariel, I have no money," he said abruptly.

"Of course you do," said Ariel, "You're a rich man." She waved a slim gold credit card in front of his face.

"What's that?" asked Elvis, confused.

"A Visa Gold Card," said Ariel. "If I were you, I'd watch your pockets."

She offered it to him and he took it hesitantly. "What'll you do while I'm inside?"

He was assuming that she'd leave. She'd brought him as far as she needed to.

"I'm waiting for you," said Ariel. "I'll add to my income while you get your ticket."

He wasn't exactly sure what that meant, but he nodded, grateful not to be deserted. This time was strange. It was like putting your child to bed as a toddler and waking up to find them a full grown adult, disconcerting and a bit terrifying.

He took a deep breath and entered the travel agency. A bell dinged as the door swung shut behind him.

The lobby was small, with about five chairs in a corner for the waiting area and a table with about a dozen magazines. In another corner was a potted plant next to a different table with stacks of glossy brochures.

In the back of the lobby was a receptionist's desk, guarding a door that no doubt led to the business area of the building.

There was a young woman at the desk with long dark hair and a friendly smile. Her nametag read Laurel.

"Can I help you, sir?" she asked.

"Um, yes," said Elvis. "Can I get a bus ticket to Columbus, Ohio?"

"Certainly," said Laurel cheerily. "When would you like to leave?"

"As soon as possible," said Elvis, a little too quickly.

Laurel raised her eyebrows. "Do you not like DC?" she asked, quickly tapping away at her computer.

"No, it's...it's nice enough. I've just got to hurry to meet some friends," said Elvis.