***
Henry wondered whether he’d live to see the new millennium - 36 years to go. He’d be 73 then - and given that his grandpa was older than that and still kicking, he figured he had a pretty good shot. Hard to believe it was almost the end of November - it was still pretty nice out, but Dallas didn’t get cold until January, and even then, it just never got that cold.
The president was in town - there was supposed to be a parade later. Henry didn’t like crowds, and he didn’t much like politics; in his experience, both just made people mean, so he avoided them. He could hear people starting to gather outside along the parade route. He shook his head and got back to work, moving boxes to the other side of the building. The former tenant who rented the top floors had stored something that leaked oil all over the place and hadn’t bothered to clean up, and now it had soaked into things and made a real mess. What assholes.
They’d put plywood down to keep things up off the oily floors while they made repairs and cleaned up the oil. Henry picked up another box of books and put it on the dolly. When it was full, he wheeled it over to the plywood floor and unloaded it. His back ached, but not too badly, so he ignored it and kept working.
The din and cheers of the crowds had gotten louder. He guessed the motorcade was getting close. He moved a few more boxes.
Pop! Pop! Pop!
Henry jumped, and then he heard people screaming outside. He gritted his teeth and started hunting through the nearly deserted building for the idiot shooting off firecrackers inside an oil-soaked book depository. What were they thinking, scaring people like that? They were going to get a good talking-to about workplace safety.
-- May 25, 2020
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| Dallas County Administration Building, formerly the Texas Book Depository |

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