It was 2:10 p.m. on a sunny yet frigid Tuesday afternoon in January and it was my lunch break. But this was no usual lunch break.
For, if it was my “normal” hour I would be sitting in my hatchback, lunchbox spread open on the passenger seat next to me, monitoring the drive-thru traffic across the parking lot of the bank where I worked.
So, instead of finding curious pleasure in watching middle-aged housewives and retirees idle in the backed-up bank line, I was speeding toward my townhouse on the other side of the city.
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