“...ah, yes, yes- I’ll just be in for a moment. I’ll call when I’m done.”
Kenny waves off the guard, watching as the silvery figure, lithe and helmeted, departs from view down the corridor.
He slides his finger along the locking mechanism, recently installed, waiting with his finger to his chin as the door beeps open.
He cracks his neck to the left, to the right.
Checks the list board in his hand.
He steps inside.
“Silver and cold, like before...” he muses as he looks around again.
But this time, he doesn’t have to marry a conspicuous blast door.
Or rush out the gates in a gift of borrowed clothes.
The corners are the same.
The boring walls.
The shiny floor.
But from one of those corners, the shadow of a crumb that shouldn’t be there.
Kenny turns to call for the guard, his shoulder-length silver hair flashing its waves as he spins.
He opens his dark olive lips, then shuts them again, with a sigh.
The guard left.